


lucid

by tenderybitch (FictitiousFanatisch)



Series: livin' in a dream [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Boypussy, Childhood Trauma, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Drug Use, Felching, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Intersex Character, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Medical Trauma, Mental Illness, Mild Blood, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Sad, Smoking, Smut, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tendery, This is a therapy fic, Vaginal Sex, americanized, as in i need therapy, diy piercings, do not read this shit, emo ten, johnten, plot twist: ten is me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 49,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictitiousFanatisch/pseuds/tenderybitch
Summary: Ten no longer dreams. He has nightmares.(AU wherein the last semester of college Ten still wants to die, hates being sober, breaks a promise to his roommate and fucks his professor.)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery
Series: livin' in a dream [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921864
Comments: 82
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS + HEED THE WARNINGS**  
>  This story is a mix of everything. It combines elements of fiction with my real life experiences as well as that of my close friends. It deals with very serious topics such as mental illness (anxiety, depression, gender dysphoria), suicide, childhood trauma, medical trauma and self harm. If any of these things is triggering to you I strongly advise you exit. I basically wrote >50,000 words to help cope with some events that occurred in my own life. Therefore, I know these are sensitive topics and the last thing I want is to make anyone uncomfortable. This has not been beta read and I'm still editing it, but I was eager af to start posting it. Flashbacks are italicized.  
> If you have any questions regarding the characters or plot please feel free to leave a comment below, cc or dm me on twitter.

  
  
  
Ten no longer dreams. He has nightmares. He's either always running, running with no end in sight or falling perpetually through a soundless black abyss. Grotesque images of dysphoric intensity flash behind his eyes, dark memories that torment him in his sleep and break him in a cold sweat. He always wakes with a pit in his stomach, wondering if he'll ever again know peace.

When he's awake, a demon sits in the lowest trench of his mind, constantly whispering reminders of every fear, every failure. It says the world is grey and gloomy and there's truly no meaning to anything at all. There's no hope, no future, no purpose.

So in his head, Ten builds a castle in the clouds, a safe haven from the chaotic inferno below. And there, a guardian angel always stands watch, protecting its sacred chambers.

-

John Seo is beautiful–his deep, reddish brown gaze and radiant eye smile, his long chestnut hair that tangles in his eyelashes or runs slicked back across the top of his head like a river, his big hands, palms that look so soft and warm and legs that seem to span on endlessly.

Ten is captivated by the way John's biceps bulge under his white button up, the way his tailored suit pants hug his muscular thighs, and how breathtakingly handsome he looks when he shows up a few minutes late wearing his glasses.

He's beautiful in a way that feels unfair. Ten is caught between envy and lust, jealous of the man's effortless beauty, while an undeniable desire flares deep within him.

The most painful thing about it is not his devilishly good looks or the fact that he's twice Ten's age -- it's that John Seo is his communications professor. 

Yes, Ten has a big, fat crush on his professor. But who can blame him? Educator or not, John is a total catch-- kind, optimistic and carefree. He is so bright, like the North star, six foot tall, prince charming archetype, a gentle, but authoritative voice, husband material, and is probably packing a monster in his boxers.

It hurts so much to look at him, but Ten _loves_ pain.

He wishes he was more embarrassed that for three years in class his mind wandered to what it would be like to date him. Ten feels more ashamed at the thoughts he has about his professor when he's in his room alone, heat thrumming in his veins and flaring between his legs. It's bad enough that he thinks about Mr. Seo when he touches himself. Ten doesn't know what possesses him to think he could actually pursue the man.

"Forty-three?! Damn. He's only seven years away from being fifty!" His roommate and best friend, Hendery, exclaims one night when Ten is routinely stalking Mr. Seo’s Facebook page.

Ten covers his mouth with his hand, "Shit, you're right. He's probably going to retire soon,"

"Uh, yeah I would hope so. How did you find out his age, anyway?"

"He slipped up today and told us his birth year," he shares, fighting a smile as he remembers the way Professor Seo's eyes went wide when he had realized what he'd said. Now on top of handsome, beautiful, pretty and sexy--he's cute, too.

"I mean, I'm not going to lie. For his age? He looks amazing."

"He looks amazing, period," Ten can't help his thirst.

"Too bad he's old as fuck,"

Ten sucks at his teeth, "He's not _that_ old."

Kunhang gives him a look. It's a look Ten is more familiar with that he'd care to admit.

"He's twice your age," Kunhang reminds.

Of course Ten wants to say it. It tingles on the tip of his tongue, so close to tumbling out. _Age is just a number._

But Kunhang's gaze is already going distant, a subtle disapproval melting down the corners of his mouth.

"Hey," Ten starts before the younger can say anything else, "Just let me dream, okay? He's way out of my league anyway. And for all we know, he's married with three kids already." 

It's a lie. Ten knows for a fact Professor Seo isn't married because he doesn't wear a ring on his left finger. That, and he revealed he was divorced during a game of two truths, one lie in COMM 220: _Survey of Mass Media_ on the first day of his sophomore year.

Kunhang's arms fold over his chest.

Louis wanders into the kitchen whining then, no doubt hoping to be fed a second meal. It's perfect timing, since Ten suddenly needs a distraction. He scoops the cat into his arms before he can escape in the other direction, laying him against his chest like a baby. Louis's big, blue eyes stare up at him. Ten gently scratches his tummy and they narrow, vibrations building in his throat.

"Yeah, and those kids are probably our age," Hendery huffs, before dropping it. Then the doorbell rings and Ten quickly hauls himself–and Louis–out of the kitchen.

-

"What are you doing?" Xuxi asks a little while later, poking his head in the bathroom, although at least to Ten it seems fairly obvious what he's doing.

He glances at Xuxi over his shoulder, then back at his own reflection in the mirror, the image of himself he's now accustomed to after twenty-one years. There are just a few differences, however, like his turquoise fringe, long enough now to tuck behind his ears, the black plug in his left lobe, double helix in his right, his snakebites, and the other eleven piercings in his ears and other various places on his body - like his tongue and belly button, oh, and his tattoos. He's a broke college student, though, so he only has a couple.

Anyway, Xuxi should be able to put the pieces together without Ten's help, not because of his obvious obsession with physical alterations, but because he has a 16 guage needle halfway through his left nostril.

Ten sighs. He peers over his shoulder at the younger man, who stands there, wide eyed, scooping handfuls of popcorn from the bag and shoveling them into his waiting mouth. The smell of the salt and greasy butter makes Ten's stomach turn.

"... I'm piercing my nose. Again." he mutters, before turning back to the mirror.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Duh, Sushi," Ten can't resist the urge to roll his eyes, "But I don't want to spend money to get it done professionally."

"You ought to be careful doing it on yourself, babe," Xuxi says, his voice deepening with genuine concern.

Out of nowhere, Yangyang appears beside him, "Yeahhh can't you like, hit a nerve and paralyze your whole face?"

If Ten's life was a circus, Liu Yangyang would definitely be the clown.

"When I do, you guys are gonna be in charge of my medical bills since you're distracting me."

He can feel the needle coming through the other side of his nostril, so he applies more pressure. It eventually slides through with ease and he breathes a sigh of relief when it's finally done.

"Oooo, you should pierce mine next!" the youngest boy suggests.

"Ha!" Ten laughs, still holding his nose as not to stab himself with the sharp end of the needle.

"That is a terrible idea," Xuxi looks appalled.

"What he said. I'm not gonna be responsible for paralyzing _your_ face too," he rifles through his bag of assorted silver surgical steel jewelry, looking for a nose stud, "Also you'll probably cry."

"Will not! I didn't cry when I got my ears pierced. That was Hendery. That's why he only got the one."

"Oh that's why?" Xuxi giggles.

"Hey, you guys! Are we watching the movie or what?" Dejun complains from the living room, "And what happened to all the popcorn?"

Xuxi disappears in an instant, already rambling off apologies to the younger. Yangyang pouts, but soon follows.

Hendery replaces them both a few seconds later, resting his head against the doorframe.

"Yikes. You okay?" he asks when he sees blood. It's everywhere - on Ten's nose, lips, fingers, under his nails and on his white, oversized t-shirt. Of course it started gushing once he tried to remove the needle. Piercings are stupid.

"I'm fine. I'd be even better if your little friend didn't try to turn my life into a reality show."

"Haha yeah. Yangyang is just fascinated by you. Everyone is,"

Ten siphons the jewelry through the hole, screws the ball on the end and tosses the needle in the trash.

"You watching the movie with us?" his roommate asks, an expectant glow in his eyes the older finds difficult to look at for too long before guilt coats the bottom of his stomach. He quickly busies himself with the clean up.

"Not in the mood. I'll probably just go to bed after this," he mumbles.

"Okay. I will try to tell them to keep it down." Kunhang says before disappearing down the hall.

Big surprise -- the boys do not keep it down.

-

He's a communications major with a public relations concentration, as well as a minor in graphic design, so Ten has had Professor Seo a few times already in his three and a half years here (for intro to communications, survey of mass media, small group communication, intro to photography and film and now communication theory).

Their school is relatively small and the communications department is grossly underfunded, so his classes are intimate and he's familiar with everyone in them. He's friendly enough and makes people laugh, but for the most part Ten sticks to himself. The only person on this run down campus he really wants to get close with is Mr. Seo.

Ten is finally in the second semester of his senior year - the home stretch. Now is definitely the time to shoot his shot if he ever will.

Ha. Just kidding. Ten is not _seriously_ considering throwing himself at his teacher. He made a promise to Hendery that he wouldn't, anyway, and he wants to at least try to keep it.

But it is difficult to focus on choosing a subject of study for his final project when all he wants to study is the long line of Mr. Seo's body, to kiss his neck, slip his hands up his shirt to feel on his toned stomach and back, sink to his knees and brush his lips along the inside of his thigh before taking him into his mouth—

 _Fuck_.

Ten drops his head against the table with a thump that seems loud in the empty classroom. He crosses his arms above his head, willing the intrusive thoughts away. It's a good thing he comes to class earlier than everyone else. He has plenty of time to get himself together before the man of the hour arrives.

Or so he thought.

"You're always so punctual, Ten. I'm impressed," Professor Seo enters the classroom with too much pep in his step even for 1pm, resting his computer bag on the desk.

"It's because you're my favorite teacher," he replies smoothly, lifting his head and trying to appear as if he wasn't sleeping just moments ago. He doesn't want John to think he comes to class this early just to nap.

Ten comes this early to see _him_ , and he looks too good to be real: black jeans, black chelsea boots, black belt, silver buckle, black turtleneck, shucking his dark grey peacoat down his shoulders and draping it on the back of the desk chair.

"Oh?" Mr. Seo's eyebrows lift. Ten wants to let him keep it, but he just can't help himself.

"Nah. I just come in here during the lunch break because the dining hall gives me anxiety."

"So... I'm _not_ your favorite teacher?" his eyes are on Ten, and he feels himself growing weak. He had no idea the man would be so persistent.

"No, you are," he admits.

"Score," Professor Seo fist pumps the air. Ten rolls his eyes, honestly embarrassed for them both. 

After nearly four years, they speak comfortably—almost too comfortably for Ten, who wants him so badly he can't sleep at night. 

"Have you chosen a topic for your final yet?"

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna do something related to LGBT issues. As always."

"It's a good one. Lots of different angles to that."

"Exactly. I could honestly go on for hours about that stuff," Or just dust off an old project from last year, make a few subtle changes and resubmit it. John is cool. He wouldn't mind.

"I'm glad you're passionate about something. Some of the others.... It's like pulling teeth to get them to care about something," Mr. Seo pulls a face, "I mean, literally. _Anything_."

Ten laughs gently. He loves that his professor shares his true feelings with him, even if it's something so mundane. He also likes talking to Mr. Seo because he gives him compliments. Ten likes knowing that he's doing well, even if it is just on silly assignments. Even if communications is like, the easiest program ever.

It's always been like this, ever since freshman year. Ten still remembers it vividly: COMM 115, _Intro to Communications_ on Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays at 8am. Ten was seventeen and seeing his hot professor was the only incentive to getting up that early.

Mr. Seo strides across the room and slides him a blank paper and a pen to start the sign in sheet.

"Hey," he stops. Ten looks up. "....Something's different about you," 

"Really?" A giddy feeling bubbles in Ten's chest.

"...Is there?" the man squints in his direction, unsure. 

"I don't know, _is_ there?" he repeats, waggling his eyebrows.

His teacher leans back against the desk, arms folding over his chest. He raises one hand to his chin, stroking it contemplatively. He's about to say something when another student walks in. Then his focus turns to her, and the moment is gone.

Ten forgets to ask him at the end if he ever figured it out.

-

"Did you eat?"

Ten ignores Kunhang at first, just holding Leon over his shoulder. He pets his little head, scratching it lightly.

"Hm?" his roommate persists.

"No," Ten murmurs, "I'm not hungry."

"Did you eat at all today?" The elder has to think about it for a long moment.

"Yeah..." he nods, but it was just some chips and a bottle of water around noon. Hendery doesn't ask him what he ate, which Ten is grateful for. He hates being treated like a child. But the younger's expression shows he's skeptical.

"I'm too lazy to make anything but ramen," Kunhang holds up a pack. "Want some?"

"Sure," Ten agrees, because he doesn't want to argue. Also, his therapist told him he sometimes needs to force himself to eat even if he doesn't want to.

The table is quiet as they eat and the entire place would be if not for Leon's soft mewls at their ankles, despite the food sitting in his bowl.

Hendery has bags under his eyes. He's three years younger and two grades shy of Ten, but sometimes he seems so much older, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ten wants to ask him how his day was, but instead he swirls his chopsticks through the soup, making the noodles spin.

"How's your teacher?" Hendery asks, curing the awkward silence immediately. It's the one topic that makes Ten smile these days. 

"I dunno," he shrugs, "He seems good I guess."

"Did you ask him out yet?"

"No," Ten frowns, "I'm not going to."

"Good. 'Just checking." Kunhang slurps his noodles, sending the broth splattering in all directions. Some of it lands on Ten's arm and he cringes before wiping it off.

Silence fills the space between them for a few minutes before the younger clears his throat.

"There are plenty of decent guys your own age, you know?"

"Yeah," Ten breathes, pulling at the ring in his bottom lip, "I know."

-

Being a senior has its perks. He finished most of his credits earlier on, so now that he's in his final semester, he only has class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. When he's not working shifts at the campus library, he gets to stay in bed all day watching anime with Louis and Leon curled up on the duvet.

It's a good thing in theory, but some days he wakes up and his bones feel like stones. He can't even lift his head, let alone get out of bed to eat or shower. He used to have to force himself up and out the door every single day to maintain his 3.92 GPA. Despite his struggles, he actually cares about his grades. Besides, it would just be embarrassing to do poorly in classes so easy.

But being home alone more means he succumbs to more numbness and more intrusive thoughts more often. And today is one of those days.

Ten can feel himself slipping slowly, painlessly, but after so many years he knows it's just one of those things he can't control. In a moment of weakness he finds himself thinking about his family, his friends, his relationships. He considers the events of his past and whether or not he wants a future. That singular thought finds him quickly. It circles his mind again and again at an obsessive rate before he can stop it.

The only thing he can really do is distract himself, so he shakes himself out of it, tears the covers off his body and rolls out of bed. He wakes his phone. 4pm.

The wood floor is cold against the soles of his feet when he steps into the hall. He pads into the kitchen, going into the fridge and getting bottled water. He takes a few sips before abandoning it on the counter, wandering into the living room to bother Louis.

A little while later, he goes into the bathroom and flicks on the light. He looks at the mirror, eyes scrolling over his reflection. His hair sticks up in all directions, his face looks swollen and his nose looks huge. He can't quite place or time the source of the feeling, but for as long as he can remember he has hated his appearance. He genuinely doesn't understand how anyone could find him attractive enough to date him.

He looks back on his ex-boyfriends with a sort of awe at the fact that they even paid him any attention, let alone spent months with him, let alone fucked him.

He's bored and the blue is fading, so he decides to bleach his hair. He realizes belatedly, long after the developer has already been applied to his head, that he doesn't have the toner he needs for the color he wants.

So he ties a fucking plastic bag over his head, throws on a hoodie and leaves the building. It's freezing outside, below thirty, so he sprints down the street to the drug store, but of course when he gets there they don't have what he needs. He grabs a cheap box dye and mentally prepares himself for a disaster.

Ten had expected to fail, but when he actually does - and it ends up being dusty as fuck instead of platinum blonde like he wanted - he feels a devastating annoyance build in his chest. If he was feeling ugly before, he feels absolutely disgusting now. So then he curls up in bed and cries about it for a good hour.

"People like you are so annoying," Kun says later when he and Xuxi come over with thai food (under Hendery's instruction no doubt) and the intention of force feeding him, "You literally look fine. More than fine."

"Yeah. It looks really good," Sushi says, a soft smile on his lips. He's holding Ten's cat all wrong - lifting Louis from the waist with his big palms sitting under his arms like he's a fucking stuffed animal. He fights the urge to say something about it.

"I don't believe either of you," Ten decides.

-

"I forgot to tell you. I think I figured out what's different about you," Professor Seo says, as he opens his laptop.

Ten looks up from his phone where he's watching DIY eyebrow piercing videos. He's not planning to pierce his eyebrow anytime soon, or at all honestly, but they have been looking cool on _other_ people lately.

"It's your hair," he snaps his finger, as if he's definitely got it, "Right?"

"You get half the point."

"Oh man. There's something else?" his teacher groans.

Ten rests his phone on the table. He wore a beanie today with the hopes of hiding his mistakes, but ashy tufts peak out of the sides and the back.

John's eyebrows furrow, forehead wrinkling cutely as he thinks. He looks like he's struggling.

"Okay," he eventually throws his hands up, "I surrender."

 _So dramatic,_ Ten can't help but note as he picks at his chipped black nail polish, making it worse.

"You want me to tell you?" he sighs, honestly disappointed he hasn't been able to guess it.

"Yes. It's bothering me so much."

"Fine. I pierced my nose."

"Naw. Really?" the man double takes, "I don't know why, but I thought you already had that."

"I did last year, but it fell out in my sleep and closed up. So I did it again."

"Ah. Piercings suck like that though, right?"

Ten has no idea what Professor Seo knows about piercings. It doesn't look like he has any. Still, he appreciates the display of interest. "For sure."

"Any more changes I should anticipate?" he hums absentmindedly, the quiet room filling with the soft clicks of his fingers typing on his laptop.

Ten smirks, his mind flickering to the eyebrow piercing he most definitely hasn't been contemplating.

"Maybe. I can't tell you what, though. You just have to stay ready at all times."

"Ah-hah," Mr. Seo flashes a wicked smile, "Will do."

Ten’s heart clenches.

-

The feeling hasn't gone away. Or should Ten say, the lack thereof.

He gets off work and his stomach growls but he ignores it because food is expensive. Also there's no food and no Hendery at home, so he decides to wander the campus aimlessly for a couple hours. The sun is setting, though, and it's getting colder by the minute.

He finds himself moving in the direction of the main administrative building. It's the only one that's likely to still be open at this hour. There's one place he likes to go on days like this.

He climbs the three flights of stairs and opens the door at the very top. A long, empty corridor stretches out in front of him. He makes his way down it, dirty old skools squeaking against the linoleum with every step.

It's nothing special, like everything else in Ten's life. It's a public restroom on the fourth floor, a disgusting hideout fitting for a disgusting boy like him. 

The door creaks as it closes behind him. The air is cool, but the ground is warm and despite the shitty plumbing that hasn't been upgraded in seventy-five years, it actually smells relatively fresh, unlike it usually does.

Throughout his three and a half years at this God awful school, this has been the only place he likes to go when he feels overwhelmed. It's usually isolated, sans for the odd janitor. But once security makes their rounds and all the staff clear out for the day, Ten is completely alone. Which is either a good or bad thing depending on how he feels. The windows up here have long, concrete ledges and no screens.

He surveys the tiled floor for any suspicious wet spots before dropping his satchel. He undoes the window's latch with a familiar ease and uses what little arm strength he has to crank it all the way open.

The March air is a strong force that knocks him back onto his heels. He surveys the town as far as his eyes allow him, the glow of the streetlights, people jogging, the cars driving by.

It's _meh_ during the day, but a decent view at night, he thinks, as he lights a cigarette and pushes it against his mouth.

He leans his weight against the window sill as he smokes and allows the visual to relax his mind and the nicotine, his body.

The thought crosses his mind, like it does every time he comes here. Ten gets a head rush when he looks down, the seventy-five foot drop into the parking lot below. It makes him a little woozy, but it's not unpleasant. In fact, he actually kind of likes it.

He doesn't know what possesses him to climb onto the actual ledge, but he follows the urge blindly. He holds the side of the frame as he hauls his weight over it. It's wide enough that he can sit down comfortably, dangling his legs over the edge.

He lets go of the window and any irrational fear of falling. After a few minutes he feels himself drifting from reality, the ever present anxiety sifting out of his veins for once and the darkness bathing him in something serene. He closes his eyes, just feeling the cold air nipping his skin, tousling his long hair.

Ten imagines if a strong gust of wind came from behind, he might actually fall forward. There's nothing to hold onto. He can't help but fantasize about it for a moment. It would be so easy.

He thinks about what the staff and students at the stupid fucking institution would think if they found his lifeless corpse in the parking lot tomorrow morning. He thinks about his family, his friends, his roommate, his cats.

 _John_.

The bathroom door swings open and Ten feels that gush of air hit the back of his neck, rushing like water down his spine. He lurches forward once, but not far enough to take off.

"Oh, hey. What are you still doing here?"

Ten hears an achingly familiar voice fill the bathroom behind him, echoing against the walls.

He opens his eyes and turns, sitting so one leg hangs inside and the other outside the window. They scan the room until landing on Mr. Seo, his stupidly beautiful face.

"Just avoiding my responsibilities," he says casually, lifting the cigarette to his lips again, "I have to study for one of my classes. The professor is a real stickler. We have quizzes like, every week."

"Well he sounds _awful_ ," The professor in question smirks.

"I should be asking _you_ that question, though," Ten hums, resting his head back against the window frame.

"I was printing a few things in the office downstairs. The bathroom down there was locked, though, so I had to go looking for one. So annoying," the man rambles, frazzled. He lays his coat and laptop bag on the counter. "I should be good to go after this."

"I don't want to go home yet," Ten shares, unable to resist the urge to drag his gaze down his teacher's form.

He opted for business casual today, professional in his white button down and black necktie, now loose around his collar. The flare is the red hightops on his feet.

"What's at home?" the elder asks, stepping up to the urinal and undoing his fly. Ten forces himself to look away.

"Just my cats. My roommate is working late again."

"You have cats? I don't think I've seen them."

"You want to see my cats?" Ten can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Sure I do."

Ten doesn't need to be told twice. He whips out his phone, unlocks it and scrolls through the gallery for a picture he approves of.

Mr. Seo washes his hands. Of course there are no paper towels, there never are, so he shakes them a few times to air dry.

"You're not afraid of heights?" Mr. Seo steps toward him.

"Not really," Ten murmurs. He selects his favorite picture of he and the boys and turns his phone toward the older man. John adjusts his glasses, eyes trailing over the screen. 

"Cute. Although I'm more of a dog person myself."

Ten exhales in the other direction, the night air stealing the smoke. "You would say that."

" _Hey_. What's that supposed to mean?" he folds his arms over his chest, his habit. Ten loves that it makes his biceps look like they're about to tear through his shirt.

He can't help but look longer than he should at his hands, his arms, the gold watch on his wrist, the way his sleeves are folded and pushed up to his elbows.

"Nothing," he shrugs, "You just seem like that kind of person."

His professor's eyes narrow. Ten smirks, taking the final drag before stubbing the blunt end out on the sill and tossing it out the window.

"Have you been on campus all day?" the elder asks, glancing at his bag sitting on the floor. Ten suddenly feels insecure for no reason. What the hell is he doing up here anyway?

"Yeah," he answers.

To make matters worse, at that moment, his stomach growls, and it's so fucking loud in the stillness of the bathroom. _Fuck_. Ten clenches his eyes shut in humiliation.

"Hm. Are you hungry?" Mr. Seo throws his coat on over his shoulders, sliding his arms through the sleeves. Ten doesn't know how to answer.

"I guess," he decides.

"What do you want to eat? I was just about to grab dinner anyway." _Huh?_

"I could do pizza or ... something," Ten stutters, caught off guard. He runs a nervous hand through his hair. He remembers then that he took his beanie off before work and realizes that means this whole time John has seen his botched hair. _Double fuck_.

But in other news, did Professor Seo just ask him to dinner? What is happening?

"Sounds good," the older man asks, grabbing his own bag and tossing the strap over his shoulder, "You coming? We should get out of here before security chews us out."

Ten agrees. He hops off the sill and grabs his bag before following Mr. Seo out of the bathroom.

-

_Home._

_I got your script refills._

_Wya?_

Ten looks down at his phone, glowing in the darkness of his professor's car. He reads Hendery's messages over, deciding not to reply for now. He's got much bigger fish to fry, like the fact that he's sitting in his hot communications professor's car. Because _what_?

Mr. Seo parked at the pizza joint and went inside to ask the host how long a carry out order would take and Ten is glad. He needed a second alone to come to his senses. He pinched himself a second ago, just to prove he was in fact awake and alive and not trapped in a dream or drug induced delirium.

Is it just him, or did John sound like he was asking him out back there? Or was he just being nice? Either way Ten is excited. He's finally going to spend time with Professor Seo outside of class, which is something he's been wanting to do for over three years. 

Mr. Seo returns then, unlocking the door and climbing back into the driver's side.

"So, they said it's going to take 20 minutes for takeout. Same time for dine in. I didn't order. I wanted your opinion first," he explains.

"Okay. What do you want to do?" Ten pulls his sweater sleeves down over his hands.

"It's up to you. That's not really a big difference, is it?" John reasons.

"Yeah. We can just dine in... if that's fine by you?"

"Fine by me."

So they go inside. John approaches the hostess, she leads them to a table and they sit down. It seems too easy. It feels like at any moment now someone is going to jump out of nowhere and tell Ten he's being punk'd. But after a few minutes of shy smiles and small talk -- and no camera crew -- Ten just wishes he knew Mr. Seo's angle.

He can't understand how he spent so long hoping, wishing for an opportunity like this only for one to fall in his lap so effortlessly.

-

"So you're not afraid of heights... but you're afraid of ... fruits?" Professor Seo chuckles.

"Yeah. It's weird, I know," Ten sighs, used to it.

"It's not _weird_. It's a little unfortunate. I like fruits a lot."

"I'm happy for you. Just make sure when your pineapple pizza comes, you keep that nasty shit over there, on _that_ side of the table."

"Hey, hey! Who said anything about pineapple pizza? I do _not_ eat that," Mr. Seo looks scandalized.

"So...Professor Seo," Ten wonders a little bit later. He sips on the cola in front of him, pulling back and trapping the sweetness against his tongue, "How come this is the first time we're hanging out outside of school?"

The man's eyes trail over his face before dropping to the table. He shrugs.

"I never knew you wanted to."

Ten deadpans, "...What."

"What?"

"I've been trying to get you to be my friend for like, three years."

"Really?"

"Yes," Ten whines, "Do you think I talk to all my professors like this?"

"Huh. I guess I never thought about it," his mouth turns down, "Wait, why? I'm an old geyser. What interest could you possibly have in me?"

 _More than you think_ , Ten wants to say. But then the food comes.

-

"Here," Mr. Seo holds out his hand.

They're in the car, parked near the school. Ten insisted he needed to catch the bus because he had to run another errand before going home but the truth is he's just not bold enough to ask John to take him home.

Ten frowns, not sure what he means. But then the older man's eyes flicker towards the busted ass android in his hands. He doesn't get it, but he's not in the business of denying John Seo anything. He hands it over.

Ten can't see over his hands, so he can't tell what he's doing. He gets antsy when other people have his phone and that feeling is doubled because of who has it. He gets it back soon enough, the screen still open to the new contact the man just created.

"That's my personal cell. Please text me when you get home."

Ten swallows hard when he sees the look on his face, the seriousness in his gaze.

"Oh. Okay," he nods, pocketing his phone. He grabs his bag and the cardboard pizza box with his leftovers, popping the door and sliding out.

The temperature has dropped significantly since they left the restaurant. The air is harsh in comparison to the warmth of John's car. Those fancy heated seats kept his butt warm.

Ten briefly considers saying he changed his mind and asking the man to take him home instead, if only to spend an extra few minutes with him. If only to avoid having to wait fifteen minutes in the cold for the goddamn bus. But that would be annoying.

"Thanks again. Night," he mumbles.

"Goodnight, Ten."

-

"Where the hell have you been?" Kunhang rushes him as soon as he comes in the door, naked except for the hot pink towel wrapped around his waist.

The sight is anything but intimidating and Ten wants to laugh, but the look on his roommate's face tells him it wouldn't be wise.

"I got pizza," he shows the box, hoping it proves his story true, "Sorry, I meant to text you. I forgot."

"Please try not to do that," Hendery runs a hand through his still wet hair, "It really freaks me out."

"Try not to forget? Which is like, a normal thing that people sometimes do? Sure. Will do," Ten scoffs. He rests the box on the counter and shrugs past him in a beeline for his room.

-

_Home._

He texts the number that's been saved as 'John Seo'. He can't resist the urge to add a black heart after it.

'John Seo 🖤' Perfect.

He gets a reply a few minutes later.

_Thanks. I'm glad you made it back safely._

Ten falls asleep feeling warm for the first time in months.

-

"The pink looks good," Mr. Seo compliments his hair.

"Thanks," Ten glances up from his phone.

"It matches this," he digs in his pocket for a second, pulling out his lighter and setting it on the table.

"Oh shit. I thought I lost this little guy."

"You left it in my car last week. I didn't notice it 'till this morning."

"Thank you, _John_ ," Ten grins, "Can I call you that, now that we're friends?"

John looks conflicted, "Uhh, it's hardly appropriate for you to call me that at school."

"Well, that's how you saved your number in my phone," Ten shrugs.

"My mistake. It was late."

"It's all good... _John_ ," Ten smiles, mischievous. The man gives him a disappointed look.

He sighs, "If you're going to be like this, I'd honestly prefer Johnny."

"Johnny," Ten says once, just testing it out in his mouth.

-

After class, like a lost puppy, Ten follows Mr. Seo outside. He's always been like this. He's always needed someone to latch onto, to lead him like a child. Ten really wants Johnny to fill that empty role in his life.

He doesn't have work for another hour. The only other person he knows on campus is Kun, and he would much rather bother Johnny than listen to the older boy ramble on about his bitch of a voice instructor. Ten’s been given an opportunity to get to know his teacher and he would never forgive himself if he didn't seize it.

The man stops when they reach his car and he unlocks it. He opens the door and puts his laptop inside.

"This is actually my roommate's," Ten says, flicking the lighter on and off, "Pink is his favorite color."

"Oh. Is that why you dyed your hair?" the older man wonders, closing the door back.

Ten barks a laugh, "No way. It's just a coincidence. I like pink too."

"I never would've guessed that. You wear black, mostly."

Johnny pays attention to him. He notices things about him. Ten doesn't know what to do with that information.

"Yeah because I'm not that fashionable. But you can't go wrong with black."

"True," John tilts his head, considering. "Unless it's all different shades of black."

"Oh, I hate that." Ten groans, sticking a cigarette in his mouth, "You're fashionable, though. Maybe you could give me some pointers."

"Ten," Johnny calls his name.

Ten's eyes dart to him.

"You shouldn't smoke on campus. Security will fine you so fast."

"Please," Ten waves his hand dismissively, "I do this all the time."

But then Johnny puts his hand on his shoulder, his tender, yet insistent touch burning Ten even through the layers of his clothes. He feels his strong will cough, sputter and die inside of him. 

"Come on, if you need to smoke, let's just take a walk. Not far, just up the street here," he points toward the neighborhood nearby. The hand falls away, but the feeling lingers. Ten submits.

They stray far enough away from campus and he lights his cigarette, then they walk in silence for a bit. Ten is hyper aware of their height difference as they go. He's never looked up to the man quite like this.

"I wonder what you dress like when you're not here. Do you have any pictures?" he's always been curious.

One of the most interesting things about Professor Seo is the fact that he stays up-to-date with fashion trends. He's from a completely different generation, but he dresses so modernly. Johnny is a decade or so shy of Ten's parents, but his own father walks around in white knee socks and fisherman sandals. Ten hates himself for thinking he would still want Johnny even if he dressed like _that_. 

"Oh, yeah," the man whips his phone out, "I actually think I put more effort into how I look on school days than days off. But, I'll try to find something for you..."

Ten can't quell his anticipation as Johnny searches.

Johnny turns his phone around and Ten isn't sure what he was expecting, but it definitely isn't black shorts and doc martens, a black crop top that reveals his washboard abs with fishnet sleeves, a black harness, spiked choker, chunky steel rings, and dark eye makeup. 

"Woah," Ten gasps, unable to contain his shock.

"I knew you would like this," the man laughs brightly, eyes curving, "For the record, I do _not_ dress like this on my days off. That's just from a shoot my friend asked me to help her with."

"Oh man. I was about to say. You're not half bad for an old geyser," he awes, as if he didn't already think Johnny was above average. Ten wonders how he is still single.

Johnny laughs, "Please,"

"I'm serious. You could seriously model. Hell, just wear that kind of shit to school. The girls would lose it," Ten tells him, waving his cigarette around for emphasis.

"What about you?" Johnny wonders. Ten's not entirely sure what the man means by that, but he takes it as he wants.

"Me? Oh, I would definitely lose it," he bites his lip, "I just did."

He tears his eyes away from his face before he can catch his reaction, fixing them on the gravel that lines the side of the road.

He doesn't think either of them know where they're headed, but Ten is content to wander aimlessly with him through the neighborhood for as long as time permits. He hopes the weather will allow it to too - the sky is grey and the air is crisp. It might snow. 

"I did model for a little bit in college," Johnny shares, tucking his phone back into his coat pocket. His hands stay there, sheltered from the cold, "Nothing major, though, and not for long."

"Wow. That's so cool. I should've known that was a thing for you. You always look good," _Yikes_. Ten probably shouldn't have said that.

Johnny doesn't seem to notice, "What are you going to do after this?" he asks.

"I have to work. In the campus library. You?"

"Probably go home. Get some grading done," he toes at the gravel.

"Lame," Ten turns up his nose.

"Life's not all fun and games, you know."

"What do you even do for fun?" the younger asks.

"Photography. Watch movies. Workout. Not much else." It's already more than what Ten does: lay in bed and rot.

"What kind of movies?"

"Classics. New stuff. Whatever looks good."

"Do you like horror movies?"

"A few."

"Good. I want to watch _Psycho_ with you. And then we can discuss whether or not Alfred Hitchcock used queer subtext."

Professor Seo chuckles, "Okay. It's gonna be a short conversation, though. He definitely did."

"Exactly! Thank you," Ten exclaims.

-

It's April now and the air is starting to get a bit less brisk, more humid. It's not warm enough to go out without a jacket but it's not cold enough to wear a coat. Because of climate change, these days the heavy rain doesn't start until the end of the month. So it's more like, May showers bring June flowers. But the skies are cloudy and gray, cloaking their apartment in a groggy haze that negatively affects Ten's mood. As if it wasn't already bad.

Hendery has been quiet and distant lately. All their friends probably think Ten is the emo one, and they're right, but the younger definitely has his moments.

It becomes painfully obvious when he stops talking. He is the one instigating conversation most of the time, so at the moment their line of communication is virtually impeded.

Kunhang is studying engineering at a different local school and Ten has no idea what engineering even is, but he supposes it could be really hard and making the boy stressed. That, paired with seasonal depression seems like the logical conclusion. It feels like it's been weeks since they've seen the sun.

But the other side of Ten, the numb, obsessive and irrational side, thinks it's his fault Hendery is acting differently. It's at least possible that his best friend is harboring feelings of hatred toward him. Because Ten cannot comprehend a world in which everyone else doesn't hate him as much as he hates himself.

Kunhang goes to bed early that night. It's been about five minutes since he retired. And Ten spends the next five in the hallway contemplating whether or not he should go into his room. He doesn't want to bother his roommate, but he misses him. Also Hendery is sad or something, and Ten wants to cheer him up.

In the end his motives are always selfish. The door creaks open, orange light from the hallway spilling into the younger's room.

Hendery is different from Ten in many ways, and likewise his room is different. For one, it smells like weed and not like cigarettes.

There's a moment after stepping inside where he lingers in the middle of it. He doesn't come in here that often anymore and feels awkward and uncomfortable and out of place because he is.

He can't tell if his roommate is awake or asleep; he is just a quiet lump under the comforter, moving steadily as he breathes. Before Ten can think too much or talk himself out of it, he climbs onto the mattress.

He hooks his arm around what he assumes is Hendery's waist, pressing his face on what he assumes is his back.

"Hi," he whispers, testing to see if the boy is awake.

"Hey," the younger breathes, passing the test.

"Are you mad at me?" Ten blurts.

"...No," But Kunhang hesitates, voice muffled beneath the duvet.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not mad."

"Then what's wrong?" Ten tugs gently at the blanket until it comes down.

Hendery sighs, but lets it happen. He's still facing the wall and Ten wishes he could see his face, drink in his expressions and try to decipher what he feels.

Ten's thumb traces slow circles against his side, coaxing out a response.

"I'm worried," he eventually says, his voice heavy with the confession, "... but you don't like it when I worry."

"What are you worried about?"

"You know," Kunhang mutters. Ten can sense his frustration. He really doesn't want to have to say it, but Ten doesn't understand.

"I don't. Tell me?" he swallows hard, preparing for the worst.

Hendery is quiet for a long time. Ten wracks his brain for any semblance of an answer. It's something that bothers him so much, it ruins his mood for more than a day or two. It's something that makes him cold and distant for at least a week, drifting further away when all he really wants is to draw close.

He gets it.

"What you did... last time," the boy starts, pained. Ten closes his eyes, just feeling his roommate's warmth, his heartbeat, the staggering of his breaths.

"When you texted me. And... and then, I found you... in the bathroom..."

"You still think about that?" he holds his best friend tighter.

"I think about it all the time. I can't sleep."

"... I'm sorry," Ten breathes, guilt swelling in his gut.

The demon from his nightmares laughs and scoffs. _Pathetic_ , it echoes in the dark hollows of his mind.

How can he be so selfish? How can he cause his best friend so much agony that he can't sleep at night? It seems like all Ten ever does is hurt the people he loves.

At least the boy doesn't hate him, but Ten can never stop thinking it would be better for them both if just he didn't exist. Then Kunhang wouldn't feel like this.

"Don't do it again," Hendery says, cupping his hand, squeezing it once. Ten wonders how this situation got turned around. It always does.

"Please just promise me you won't try it ever again."

Ten really shouldn't make more promises he can't keep, but he wants Hendery to feel better.

"Okay," he manages.

-

Sicheng is Ten's oldest friend. He's known Ten since he was eleven, when he first moved to the States and his parents enrolled him in that incorrigible dance academy on 5th street, with the tacky blue wallpaper and even tackier inspirational quotes in the studio that Ten had looked at so many times in his childhood that the memory alone makes him want to puke.

Winwin goes to a pretentious and prestigious performing arts school on the other side of the country now, because unlike Ten, he actually got to keep his dreams. He's on spring break this week, visiting his parents and agrees to come hang out with Ten for the day. Of course, Ten had to beg the younger boy - he's a socially inept scorpio and if he had it his way, their friendship would've dwindled long ago.

Anyway, they're just going to go grab food and catch up so it's the perfect opportunity to get out of the apartment since Ten is starting to feel bad again and needs a distraction. But perhaps it's the wrong one.

"As part of our final, all the seniors have to do their own recital, so I've been pretty busy working on that. I'm showing modern dance, ballet and urban/hip-hop. I was working on latin for a while, but my partner had an injury so I had to switch. I'll honestly be so glad when this shit is over, though. Performing and evaluations and stuff always makes me so anxious," Sicheng explains, dragging his fork through the mediocre looking salad in front of him. He's never usually this talkative, but this is what he's most passionate about, and even though he says it makes him anxious, they both know there's nothing he'd rather do.

Sicheng was always an amazing performer - he even taught Ten some things about form he never would've figured out on his own. He was shy and reserved but had a natural flair that only came out on stage. Ten hasn't seen Sicheng dance for years, not since they were at the academy, the only two leotards in the class full of tutus.

And Ten can't say it doesn't stir up some complex feeling in his stomach to hear him talk about dance. He's happy to hear his friend is well on his way to graduating, but he can't disentangle himself from the raging envy swelling inside.

Ten can't say he doesn't miss it sometimes. The academy can go up in flames and rot in hell, but he catches himself wishing he hadn't given up dance. If only he hadn't been so weak back then and lost sight of what really mattered. If he hadn't let those things happen to him, then maybe he would be like Sicheng right now-- maybe he would be happy.

Maybe he would be chasing his dreams instead of running from nightmares.

His body feels wrong in many ways, and worse when he severed his ties with the thing he was born to do.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought that stuff you asked me for," Sicheng says later, when they're standing outside of Ten's building, waiting for the boy's uber.

Ten frowns. "What stuff?"

"Ya know, that stuff you kept bugging me about. When I got my wisdom teeth out," he rambles, rummaging through his bag.

"Ohh," Ten feels his mood lift instantly.

He and Winwin are honestly not that close. They should have stopped talking a long time ago, because at some point Ten wanted to cut ties with everything from his childhood, or that reminded him of it. In that moment, he's never been more grateful that Sicheng doesn't know certain things about him, that there's still an innocent, airy glow to their interactions.

"Here it is," Sicheng pulls out the little orange bottle of prescription painkillers. Extra strength tylenol- acetaminophen-codeine.

He passes it to Ten with an ease that almost makes him laugh.

"Thanks," he gives it a once over before tucking it in the front pocket of his hoodie.

The uber arrives. Winwin turns to him, scratching the back of his neck, unsure what to say now that it's time for him to leave. He's so awkward, it's embarrassing.

"This was fun, Winnie. Please don't be a stranger," Ten collects him in his arms. Sicheng stands, stiff as a board, arms at his sides and lets himself be held.

"Ngh. Sure. I'll keep in touch," he mumbles, pulling away as soon as the older allows him.

Then he's gone again as swift and quiet as he came, only in his wake leaving Ten with an avalanche of memories he's tried very hard to forget. 

-

Nightmares are the only dreams fitting for a monster.

_He's no more than twelve, sitting on the floor next to his little sister in the living room watching cartoons and his parents are speaking in hushed tones in the dining room behind them. They don't say his name, but Ten has this sinking feeling in his gut that they're talking about him._

_"He's doing it again. I saw him."_

_"We talked the other day... said he stopped."_

_"... Did you hear what I just said? I caught him. I saw it with my own eyes. And what, you don't believe me?"_

_"I didn't say that."_

_"This is not normal. He's... different."_

_"Then we'll just hide all the sharp things. It's probably just a phase or something. You know kids do weird stuff like this. I'm sure he'll grow out of it."_

_"We can't wait around for him to grow out of it ... school counselor called me yesterday ... his teacher noticed he hasn't been eating lunch... starving himself too. What if it gets worse? We have to do something."_

_"Okay, alright. We can talk to him."_

_"I hate to even say it, but I think something happened," his mother says, pained._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I think someone ... did something to him."_

-

Hendery keeps Ten's meds and all the pills (painkillers, antihistamines, even decongestants) they own in his room in a cute pink heart shaped chest he bought from an antique store a while back. It's all stored safely behind a padlock that only he has the key to.

Ten lost the responsibility of medicating himself last year, after he took a bunch of them at once and paralyzed himself on the bathroom floor. He lost a lot of things when he proved to be a danger to himself.

He can't really be trusted with anything now. And Hendery knows him, sometimes better than he knows himself.

So Ten is really grateful for Dong Sicheng. He's happy that he and Winwin aren't as close as they used to be, because if they were he would know not to trust Ten with pills.

The little orange bottle of extra strength tylenol stares at him while he's getting dressed for class the next morning. That, and the half a nip of passion fruit rum that sits on top of his dresser.

He can't really control his impulses so without a second thought, he pops two pills and takes a couple swigs of the rum to wash it down. Then, he grabs his bag and his phone and heads out the door.

-

Hendery made him breakfast and made him _eat_ breakfast, so it doesn't hit him while he's on the bus, or in class. Of course it doesn't hit Ten until he gets to Johnny's class. And when it hits -- it _hits_.

Every substance has its pleasant and unpleasant effects, but opioids are on a whole other level. He doesn't ease into it. He feels the high all at once and it's overwhelming, but not at all distressing.

His entire body feels tingly and floaty, like he's submerged under water. There's a warmth concentrated at the top of his stomach and the back of his throat that soon embraces the rest of his body like a hug. It's a warm, fuzzy feeling that he really can't conceptualize and knows he can't accurately describe. It's good –it's better than alcohol, better than weed, better than sex.

His perception of reality is the most warped. Nothing feels real. Johnny's voice sounds muffled, like they're in space, or like Ten is in another dimension. He feels like a silent spectator to the world around him, but even when he does engage he feels like there's no consequences to them. 

He feels energized by that fact, like he can throw caution to the wind and live the way his body and mind riddled with anxious, irrational and self deprecating thoughts normally do not allow. Right now he feels like he can fly and a part of him really wants to test the theory. Or maybe do something equally insane, like kiss his professor. 

"You okay?" Johnny asks him, as the other students file out of the classroom. He's packing his materials, sliding his macbook back into his bag.

"Yeah. I'm great," Ten smiles dopily.

"You sure?" the man raises an eyebrow, "You seem distracted."

"Positive. Hey," he quickly collects his shit, "You have many papers to grade today?"

"Not really."

"Great. Can you take me somewhere?" Ten asks as he stands.

Johnny lifts his bag. "Where do you want to go?"

"Somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care." _As long as it's with you._

-

_"One day, I'm going to take you far away from here."_

_"Oh? Where will we go?" Ten breathed, pushing back into the solid form behind him. Rough palms trailed over his sides, down his hips to his thighs. Lips against his neck._

_"Somewhere. I don't care. I can be happy anywhere, as long as it's with you."_

-

"Do you mind?" Ten asks as he pushes a cigarette filter between his lips. Johnny glances over, one hand on the wheel. He shakes his head.

He rolls the window down, then lights it, drawing the nicotine into his lungs. The menthol gives him a head rush instantly, deepening the high.

"This is so nice, Johnny. Isn't it?" Ten proclaims, running his hand through his hair. He hasn't felt this good in months. The cool wind blows through the window, softly caressing his skin.

"Why is it so nice, Ten?" he chuckles.

"I don't know. I'm here. You're here," he shrugs, as if that simple statement is enough.

-

Ten doesn't know when or if they talked about where they were going, but eventually he notices Johnny turning into a park. There aren't many cars in the lot since it's the middle of the day. It's not likely that many people that aren't mothers or the elderly here, so they get a place right near the entrance.

Ten is zoning out again, so he doesn't hear what Johnny says before getting out of the car. He scrambles in an effort to follow him, undoing his seatbelt in an unsightly haste and slamming the passenger door behind him.

The park entrance is vacant, which is good because Ten doesn't know how to conduct himself around other people right now. He only needs a few seconds to remember how high he is -- and how unfortunate it is that Johnny doesn't know. Because now he's going to have to walk around like this and probably hold a conversation, too. Ugh.

"I'm curious," he hears Johnny say.

"Hm?" Ten runs up beside him.

"Why am I your favorite teacher?" he wonders. 

"You're just cool, I don't know. Why am I your favorite student, huh?"

"Hm. I don't remember saying you were..."

Ten gapes, stopping in his tracks.

Johnny laughs, "I'm kidding! Of course I'm kidding."

Ten still pouts.

"Well, you're a good student and you actually apply yourself, a talented artist with a very unique style. You're passionate about social justice, and I know you can succeed at anything you put your mind to. I want to see you do great things in the future and to maybe feel like I helped you somewhere along the way."

Hearing that sends a different kind of warmth through Ten's body.

"Ugh don't remind me. I have to get a real job after this," he groans.

"Yeah, but don't you _want_ a job relevant to your personal talents? Not just organizing dusty encyclopedias or whatever it is you do."

"Listen, I like my job, though. I get paid to sit at the front desk. I barely have to do anything."

"Trust me. You'll feel way better when you're doing work that's meaningful to you. Sure, getting paid to do nothing is cool too, but don't you want to find your calling?"

"Huh. What about you? How'd you get into teaching anyway? Surely this dump of a school wasn't your calling."

Then Johnny tells him how he went from an unpaid intern at the local news station to a journalist at the Chicago Tribune for fifteen years, that because he was a good writer, photographer, speaker and videographer he was able to go many places, meet a lot of people, and get a lot of opportunities. He worked for a few magazines and small news publications, but he is freelance writing now, as well as authoring a book. He tells Ten that now that he's older he wants to focus more on passion projects, as well as his hobbies, and that the school offered him a good salary that enabled him to do that.

Ten clings to every word. He's overjoyed that Johnny feels comfortable sharing personal details about his life with him. Being friends with his professor was a bit of an inside joke. Ten didn't actually think that Johnny considered him a friend, but he's starting to think that's the path they're headed down.

As they walk, Ten is hyper aware of how close they stand together, the subtle brush of their arms every once in a while. The air feels magnetized around them, like there is a strong, unexplainable pull between their bodies. But maybe it's just the drugs.

For a moment, Ten entertains the idea of reaching his hand over, interlacing their fingers. He wonders how Johnny's warm palm might feel against his.

Being Johnny's friend would be cool, but Ten wonders what it would be like to take this same walk with his boyfriend.

He doesn't realize he's staring until the elder looks over.

"What, why are you looking at me like that?" Johnny asks, "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong," he says quickly.

-

The air is tepid, temperature comfortable, the birds are chirping and the sun breaks through the trees at the top of the forest, reaching through the leaves to warm the top of his head. Ten normally hates being outside, exercise and nature because of bugs. He's pale and Vitamin D deprived, so it's nice. Mostly because Johnny is the one who brought him. 

They follow the path under a bridge, past a small lake, and into a clearing where a few people are with dogs and small children. There's a colorful playground on the other side of it, and Ten's heart is locked on the purple swingset as soon as it comes into his line of sight.

"Why do you hang out with me anyway? You don't have any friends your own age?" Johnny acts as if he's annoyed. Ten _loves_ it when the man talks to him like that.

"Of course I do. But you're _way_ cooler than them," Ten huffs, thinking about Kun, Xuxi and Hendery.

"Really?" he laughs.

They reach the swings and Ten snatches the first one. A sense of nostalgia surrounds him as he sits down, wrapping his fingers around the rusty metal chains. It creaks and groans under his adult weight and he briefly wonders if he will end up on his back in the mulch in a few seconds when the entire thing collapses.

"Yes. One of them is a music major and a choir clown. And he talks to me like he's my mom. The other one is clumsy and gives bad advice. And then there's my goofy roommate who hates cleaning and can't cook or do his own laundry," Ten pitches his legs forward, back.

"Doesn't sound like a good roommate," Johnny folds his arms.

"Ehh, Hendery gets a pass because he puts up with me. I have no idea how he can be my best friend when I'm worse than all three of them combined."

"Hendery is your best friend?"

"Yeah. I love that guy. He's so nice to me. And funny... sometimes. And a good listener. A little overbearing at times, but that's how I know he cares."

"Ah."

"What about you? Do you have a best friend?"

Johnny's expression turns down, "Not really."

"Surely you have friends, though. Or do you lose all of them after a certain age?" Ten winces.

Johnny clicks his tongue, "Naw, I _have_ friends. But they're nowhere near as interesting as yours. They’re mostly all married and have kids."

"As they should at your age. What's your excuse?"

"Harsh."

"I'm just curious," Ten insists, "What's your dirty secret? Why are you still single?"

Johnny scoffs, "No secret. I was married, then divorced. And I have been focused on my career, so I haven't seriously looked for anyone new. I _hate_ dating. I prefer to meet people naturally, but once you get to a certain age you don’t meet many people you could potentially see yourself with. I like to have fun and just ...hang out. But most people my age take it too seriously."

"How long has it been since you dated?"

"Honestly... like, ten or so..." he trails.

"Months?"

"...years?"

Ten stops swinging. His jaw drops, "You haven't met anyone you like in ten _years_?"

Johnny rolls his eyes, "Hey. It sounds a lot worse when you say it like that.”

"It's just kinda sad. Aren't you lonely?"

"Nah. I have my friends and family. My students. My hobbies. And I'm used to it."

That hurts. Ten's heart clenches at the thought of Johnny going to work every day and returning home alone every night. He's pained at the thought of this beautiful man, well into his forties, being isolated for so long that he's grown used to it. Sure, he has friends, but they all have families. Ten can't even imagine what that must be like – watching all your friends have successful marriages and children while you recede deeper into your career as a distraction.

Frustration buzzes under Ten's skin, flaring in his chest. He can't understand why the thought makes him so upset, but perhaps the answer is obvious.

Ten has been here before. He's familiar with the slow, agonizing crawl through his body like an infectious disease. He's fallen in love more times than he can count.

He's looked at the world through rose colored glasses. He feels like his vision is tilted now and if he's not careful, he'll land flat on his face. Again, maybe it’s the drugs.

It's honestly embarrassing that he could even entertain the thought of Johnny Seo liking him back. Ten obviously doesn't deserve him, as a friend, or otherwise. He feels ashamed every time he even allows himself to picture them together. He's pathetic, like a child, hoping in vain for the impossible.

"What's your type?" Despite the no smoking sign posted about 3 feet away, Ten lights his second cigarette of the afternoon.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would. That's like, why I asked."

Johnny smirks. _Look at him. He's perfect, and what are you?_

He steps closer. One hand stretches out and plucks the cigarette from Ten's, pushing it against his mouth. The younger stares openly, unable to hide his shock.

_A broken toy._

"I don't really have one. I like what I like. It's different every time," he takes a drag easily, then exhales. Ten's heart rate spikes at the sight of Johnny smoking, but especially smoking the cancer stick he just had _in his own mouth_. That's an indirect kiss. They're basically married now.

 _Stop it_. _How dare you even consider such a thing?_

"Well, what do you like?" he presses. Now he has to know.

_If people saw you two together, they would laugh._

Johnny gives him a once over before shaking his head.

"We shouldn't be talking about this."

Ten pouts, "Why?"

"You know why," he passes the cigarette back.

"Tell me. I'm not that smart."

"You're plenty smart. You have a 3.92 GPA."

"School is different. I'm not that smart about stuff like this."

"Stuff like this?"

"Johnny," he complains. He's trying to change the subject, "...tell me,"

"Isn't it obvious? You're my student."

"Yeah but we're friends too though, right?"

Johnny sighs, "I was your professor first."

"Who cares, anyway?" he doesn't get it. He feels like the subject has changed.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because," he starts, running a hand through his hair, "I need to do the right thing. As far as you're concerned... I have to be careful. I need to be good."

_He is good. So good. He deserves much better than the likes of you._

"I don’t understand. Why wouldn't you be?" Ten swallows hard.

And if Johnny Seo was ever weak enough to succumb to his sly smile, the teasing, feather-light brush of his fingertips along the back of his arm, and his eyes, that against all odds, have turned a legion, Ten thinks he would notice immediately.

But like this, everything is blunted.

Johnny shrugs. He looks at Ten for a moment that seems to go on forever. He reaches over on impulse, picks something out of his fringe.

Ten holds his gaze, something indescribable building up inside him.

"Johnny–,"

"We should head back," the older man mutters. He turns, and Ten has no choice but to abandon the swing and follow him.

-

"I want Pho," he says when they get back in the car.

"I'm down."

"I'm sorry, did you want to come?"

"I was just assuming you meant you were taking me to get Pho."

"Is that right?" he laughs, "Is that what you thought?"

"Was I wrong?"

"No," he giggles. Cute.

"But I'm a broke college student. So you'll have to treat me," Ten warns him.

"Ohh I see. How unfortunate."

"For you,"

"Yeah," Johnny puts the car in reverse and pulls it out of the space, "...for me."

-

After they've eaten and Johnny has insisted on getting the bill – paying while Ten is in the bathroom so he can't even try to argue about it, they go back outside to the car.

"I was joking, you know. I was going to pay," Ten says.

"It's the least I could do for 'a broke college student' such as yourself."

"Still. You didn't have to," he sighs.

"It's fine. I wanted to," Johnny has kind eyes.

In that moment they are deepened with some kind of emotion Ten is unable to name, but it seems like more than just a teacher looking at his student.

Ten constantly has to remind himself that that is the true nature of this relationship. But he can't help hoping, wishing today was more than that. He wants these excursions they take to double as mini dates.

"Sheesh," Johnny shifts under his gaze, "Just say thank you already so we can forget about it."

"...Thank you," Ten says, sincere.

Since they started talking outside of class, Ten has learned a lot about Johnny. And he's learned a lot about himself. What started out as a wet dream about his hot professor has now evolved into something of a romantic comedy he plays through his mind whenever he is alone.

Ten used to just think about kissing Johnny, fucking Johnny, but now he also thinks about watching Johnny sleep, fingers stroking through his soft, dark hair, trailing down his spine to trace slow shapes against his back.

Ten wants to know his secrets, his pain, his fears. He wants to take it all away, bear it with his own. He knows he's spiraling faster and faster towards a black hole of reckless, boundless emotion, where there's absolutely nothing to break his eternal fall.

He wants Johnny to take him, erase him, to strip away everything he is and give him something new. Ten realizes in that moment that he wants to _love_ Johnny and _live_ for Johnny-- he wants to live _so_ he can love Johnny.

Ten never thought he could ever want someone so much. He's not used to waiting for what he wants, but he somehow became invested enough to wait years for this man. All of a sudden, it all seems so absurd.

"Johnny," he murmurs, heart pounding.

"Hm?"

The sun is quickly setting and the air around them is becoming brisk.

Ten thinks he looks regal, like a god, standing tall, back straight with his hands in his pockets, the wind dancing through his hair. He looks powerful, beautiful. Ten wants to get on his knees and worship him.

"You're doing it again," Johnny hums.

"What?"

"You're giving me that look."

"Oh, sorry," he says, but makes no effort to take his eyes away.

Johnny's gaze melts down his face, landing on his mouth.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Ten swallows.

"Maybe tidy up. Check emails. Watch the news until I fall asleep. You know, something appropriate for my age."

"Sounds like fun," he inhales, staring at his lips.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Johnny grins.

"Uhuh," Ten nods, although he's definitely not following, "Do you want company?"

"You're crazy," he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Fine. If you insist," Johnny steps into his personal space. He's close enough that Ten can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Ten's heart races as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"I want to," he whispers.

Ten feels a shiver run down his spine. All the air leaves his lungs as the impulse overcomes him.

He charges before Johnny can retreat, gripping the lapels of the man's coat, going up onto his toes and pressing his mouth against his.

Then, Ten is _kissing_ Johnny Seo. 

Johnny's lips twitch just slightly against his, and Ten is prepared to be pushed away when he feels the man's hand rest on the back of his neck, the other coming around his waist. He uses his strength to pull Ten _closer_ , until his body is flush against his.

Johnny's fingers press into his skin, his head tilts just slightly and then he's _kissing him back_ , full and deep and Ten feels dizzy. Johnny's lips are so soft, just as he imagined. His big palm slides over the curve of Ten's back and the younger feels himself melting deeper into his affliction.

It's impossible. It's too good to be true. But Ten doesn't have dreams, so he knows it must be real.

He focuses on the feeling of Johnny's mouth moving against his, his body seeping warmth into his own. He tries to commit every fine detail to memory so that when it's over he has something to draw back on.

He wants to stay in this moment forever, but he can already feel the elder putting distance between them.

"Ten," he starts, still so close that they share the same breath.

"Johnny," the younger breathes, "Please."

"...We can't," Johnny sighs softly.

He looks conflicted. Ten can understand why - Johnny is his professor who's twice his age, after all. They weren't supposed to have a relationship like this.

"No one has to know," Ten drops his head against his chest. Johnny's hand cups the back of his neck, gently squeezing.

"We'll know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for mention of genital surgery, dysphoria and medical trauma towards the end of this chapter.

The only dreams Ten has are nightmares.

_He’s on the bathroom floor, his face pressed against the cold, hard tile. He can’t feel his legs. He can’t lift his arms. He’s parlayzed. He doesn’t know if it’s with fear or distress, or if someone did this to him._

_His fingertips twitch beside his head, stained with something dark red and reflecting the fluorescent light. Blood._

_His head is pounding. It’s so cold. There are hands all over him, touching, grabbing._

_He wants to scream, to cry, but his body and his mind are totally disconnected. He can’t do anything. He can't feel anything, but at the same time he feels everything, everywhere._

It _hurts._

 _This is hell,_ Ten thinks. _Hell is not fire and brimstone, torture or even death. Hell is the mind, an inescapable chasm of perpetual disquietude. Hell is society, the world and life itself. The pain people inflict onto others. The sick, twisted desires of the heart._

_Hell is humanity._

Ten wakes up sweating, his entire body shaking, hyperventilating. His heart is beating so fast he thinks he’s going to die.

The worst part about these nightmares is that they aren’t—

They’re memories.

-

It’s May and it's been a few weeks since Ten kissed his communications professor-- a fact he is still unable to wrap his mind around. He doesn’t think he’ll ever fully believe it happened. He almost regrets going into class high that day because now he struggles to organize his thoughts, to remember all the important details that led to such an event.

But he knows if he hadn’t taken those pills, he probably wouldn’t have been fearless enough to speak to Johnny the way he really wanted to – to reveal his true feelings, to ask. And then they would still be fools walking on eggshells around each other, dancing in circles.

Although not much has changed since then– aside from the fact that Johnny’s class has become absolutely agonizing. Johnny won’t speak to him, won’t even look at him.

Ten took the hint quickly. He showed up early to the very next class, as always, but the man didn’t walk in until three minutes after it was supposed to start. Fashionably late, Ten had decided. Mostly everyone else had arrived by then. But then on top of that, he announced he had to leave early and made them work in groups until the end of the period. Shameless, he was. And stupid, if he really thought they wouldn’t all leave immediately after him.

It made Ten feel both giddy and annoyed, because he somewhat enjoys hiding in plain sight– the thrill of doing something they’re not supposed to– but he _hates_ being ignored.

Later that day another thought occurred. He felt a paralyzing panic creep into his body when he considered that maybe Johnny _wanted_ to pretend like nothing happened. All afternoon, Ten worked himself up thinking Johnny was going to alienate him until the end of the year, or maybe forever.

Ten could breathe again when Johnny called him that night. He apologized for his coldness, but sternly explained to him how things had to be. It wouldn’t look good on him if they were obvious and flaunted their feelings out in the open.

Ten could understand. He didn’t want to make things difficult for the man or jeopardize his position at the school. _Only until the end of the year_ , Johnny swore.

And it’s close.

So they don’t really talk much in person anymore, which is a bummer. Ten picks up some extra shifts at the library to distract himself from this growing need for Johnny that only gets more colossal as the days pass.

And when he’s at home, he immerses himself in last minute preparations of his final project: a holistic study of how the agenda setting theory of communication --* _snore_ *-- was applied in the US to control the --* _snore_ *-- public perception of LGBTQ+ individuals and representation through mass --* _snore_ *-- media, such as television and film, throughout the late 20th and 21st centuries.

They don’t have a written final, but Johnny is smoking dicks if he really thinks the entire class is going to write 30 pages each on their topics. They all know he doesn’t read their papers. He’ll be lucky if he gets a half assed powerpoint from a third of the class.

Ten is battling senioritis and usually much lazier at the end of the year, but being deprived of Johnny's attention makes him want to work harder for his approval, even if he already has it. The man has high expectations for Ten, so he doesn’t cut corners. He does everything, even the damn works cited page.

He feels an immense relief when he realizes this coming Thursday will be their last class of the year. Sure he has to present, which is a drag, but he’s excited to be finished. After sixteen long years, he’s excited to finally be done with school. He’ll never have to read a textbook or write another bullshit essay ever again. That alone is a cause for celebration.

So Ten is getting drunk.

“Hey, hey, don’t mix them,” Hendery stops him from pouring vodka into the lemonade and tequila he already has. Of course he is policing Ten’s every move. It’s unnecessary. The concern mainly comes from the mixing of alcohol with his meds, which is why he doesn’t drink often. But although Ten is a lightweight, his stomach is made of steel so he doesn’t get sick often. He knows his limit. Sometimes.

“Chill out, will you? Go play with your friends,” he flicks his wrist in the direction of the living room where Dejun and Yangyang are loudly arguing over games or something. He’s not really sure. He’s never too concerned with Hendery’s friends and their shenanigans. But maybe he should be. They might get a noise complaint again.

“Just... save some for the rest of us, okay? I’m still on my first,” Kunhang whines.

“There’s plenty. Plus, I still have rum in my room,” he stupidly shares. It’ll probably be gone tomorrow. Hidden.

“Yeah, go get them to stop yelling,” Kun appears, resting his hand on Hendery’s shoulder. The boy looks skeptical, but he agrees. He takes the vodka when he goes, though. Ten pouts.

“It feels like only yesterday we were moving into the dorm freshman year,” Kun pops the top off a beer, “You have no idea how relieved I am that we’re almost done.”

“ _God_ , me too. After this week, I’ll never have to write another essay ever again. No more bullshit, no more class,” the thought makes Ten so happy.

“No more professors.” Kun adds. It’s a poor choice, really, because now Ten is thinking about professors. One in particular.

“I’m gonna miss mine,” Ten mumbles, “Well, one of them,”

“Oh yeahh! I forgot about that. Is it the one you had a crush on?” Kun laughs, as if it’s funny or absurd, “Hendery told me he was like, fifty or something though. That’s so gross.”

Ten feels irritation pulsate in the center of his forehead. It’s never too long before Qian Kun says something to piss him off.

“For the record… he’s forty-three.”

“Still,” his friend shivers.

Ten tries not to let it bother him. He’s used to the ignorance from his friends and family. He doesn’t need to explain himself to anyone, but he gets tired of the comments.

“So what are your plans after graduation? What can you even do with a BA in music performance anyway? I hope you don’t end up busking on the street corner. Your family would be so disappointed,” Ten bites back.

“Ha ha. Very funny. My minor is in education, so I’ll probably teach,” Kun replies, easily. It’s difficult to insult him. He’s too naive to tell the difference between a joke and a jab.

“Sounds terrible,” Ten turns up his nose.

“What about you, huh? Good luck finding a job in public relations that you don’t hate.”

It is going to be hard, since he hates everything that isn’t sleeping, drawing, or getting high.

“Don’t remind me,” he huffs, taking another swig of his drink.

“Alright. I won’t ruin the mood,” Kun agrees, side stepping him to join the others in the living room. _Too late_ , Ten doesn’t say.

No one else offends him for the rest of the night, which he’s grateful for. Well, no one in his apartment anyway. He feels extremely offended by Johnny Seo all of a sudden.

_hi_

The man ignores him at school for two weeks straight and now he’s ignoring his texts, too? Unforgivable.

It’s literally been an hour now since Ten has texted him. Sure, it’s a drunk text and nothing good ever comes from drunk texting a man twice his age. Besides, Johnny has been keeping his distance for a reason. A reason he has already explained in thorough detail. Ten knows he’s childish. Being ignored is probably for the best, but he can’t help feeling agitated.

Eventually he joins the others in the living room, laying on the floor perpendicular to the coffee table because Dejun and Kun and Yangyang are hogging the couch. Once again, he and Hendery are broke, so they only have one couch.

Speaking of Hendery, the boy comes back from smoking with Xuxi in his closet and he reeks of it, but it’s a familiar, comforting scent. Xuxi instantly goes to the kitchen– to raid their fridge no doubt. Ten wishes him the very best of luck.

His mind flickers back to Johnny. He toys with the idea of sneaking away from everyone and calling him. He probably wouldn’t even answer, considering he’s ignored his text, but isn’t it worth a shot? He wants Johnny’s _attention_. He hates being ignored like this, being made to wait weeks without a passing glance. There’s been little to no acknowledgement that what happened ever happened and he’s actually starting to doubt that it even did.

These thoughts sound so desperate and pathetic in his head but he can’t be blamed. He’s drunk and he _misses_ his professor. He wants to kiss him.

His eyes trail over Johnny’s thread, the blinking cursor in the message box and his silly looking text from over an hour ago. The longer he stares at it the more he regrets ever sending it. Sure Johnny is old but there’s no way he’s asleep at this hour on a Friday night. He ought to call the man right now and give him a piece of his mind.

But before Ten can commit to actually getting up to do it, a hand slaps his phone out of his with an intoxicated force, sending it flying across the living room. It lands with a clatter on the floor and Louis hisses and jumps at the sound. It's a good thing he has an android.

Ten’s reactions are slowed, so it takes him a long second to realize what just happened. And that Hendery is the culprit.

The younger boy crawls on top of Ten, curls his arms around his waist and rests his head on his stomach. Of course he’s drunk _and_ high now, so Ten should’ve anticipated this. It never ceases to amaze him, though, just how clingy his usually reserved roommate becomes in this state.

“You okay?” Ten asks him, petting his blonde hair. It’s still so soft, despite the five times they had to bleach it.

“Mhm,” he cuddles in closer, craning his neck so he can still see the tv. Yangyang is button smashing, but he’s absolutely destroying Kun in Mortal Kombat.

It’s kind of cute that Kunhang gets like this, and Ten loves it when he does. It makes Dejun cringe and complain, but ignoring him is a special talent of theirs.

He adamantly keeps one hand on his best friend’s arm while the other plays with his hair. Ten tries not to think too much about the way the younger’s fingers sneak under his shirt to trace over his hip.

-

The weather has improved a lot, so being indoors is more bearable both temperature wise and mental health wise. Ten only has one other exam, but he focuses on studying. Might as well finish strong. When he’s not doing that, he rehearses for his presentation – something he never does – but now that he’s kissed his professor on the mouth he feels like there’s no room for mistakes.

The week doesn’t seem to go fast enough. It crawls like thick, black molasses, forcing Ten to revel in every moment he’s not in Johnny Seo’s communications theory class. Only when he stops obsessing over it does time seem to fly and before he knows it, it’s Thursday.

He feels a complex mixture of anticipation and dread as he gets dressed. He’s happy to be finishing, but he’s sad to be graduating because it means he won’t have classes with Johnny anymore. He's grown so used to them over four years, his teaching a familiar constant in his life.

He’s also dreading this presentation. He honestly hates public speaking. He feels like he rambles and people don’t understand him. He struggles to articulate the thoughts in his head. He wants to go first so he doesn’t have to spend the whole class period feeling like this, so irrationally anxious his stomach is churning, palms already sweating and he hasn’t even left the house. There’s extra pressure to be presenting in front of Johnny now that the man knows how he feels. He knows it doesn’t really matter. He knows he’s going to do well. But anxiety isn’t something that can be reasoned with.

He throws on something somewhat professional. A black satin button down shirt, black jean jacket and black jeans - *sigh* without rips - is nothing like Johnny’s professional, but it’s enough to save him from losing points. He styles his blonde hair and throws some accessories on before leaving.

Ten has started coming late just to spite him. Gone are the days of coming early just to hang out, but that’s Johnny’s fault.

Speaking of Johnny, the man’s eyes flicker toward him when he enters the classroom at quarter to two, but he schools his expression into something amiable quick enough to placate his irrational fears of any of these sleepy students noticing. Silly man.

 _No one cares_ , Ten wishes he could tell him. But he keeps his head down in class for Johnny’s sake anyway, doodling on the margins of his course evaluation sheet.

Presentations are at the end and Ten isn’t surprised at the sad state of what his classmates have to offer. Johnny doesn’t seem fazed either. He always said how disappointing it was that Ten was one of the only students who cared about anything. Oh, how wrong he was.

Ten does his best _for_ _Johnny_. He always has, although these days it seems like everything is for Johnny. Sometimes he catches himself thinking he wouldn’t mind living a long, agonizing life if Johnny was the prize at the end.

Ten gives his presentation last because while he initially wanted to go first to get it over with, it would be more impactful to save the best for last. And his project is obviously the best.

He tries not to look at Johnny too much as he speaks, because he doesn’t want to get lost in his eyes and lose his train of thought. That would be a train _wreck_ and a disaster he doesn’t think he could come back from.

Public speaking is such a hyper-stimulating experience. There are so many fucking things to focus on all at once and you can’t show any of it on your face. Ten is sweating buckets and he feels like his voice is shaking and that everyone can tell how nervous he is but he tries to just focus on explaining himself and his points. He knows he worked hard and he wants to convey those efforts effectively.

He feels slightly better when Professor Seo gives him a gentle smile and a nod of approval halfway through to let him know he’s doing well. It gives him a boost of energy that’s just strong enough to help him make it through.

He finally finishes, then shows his video to the class and then thanks them all for listening. He gives Johnny his 30 page book that they both know he’s not going to read, making sure his fingertips brush against his before going back to his seat to collect his things. Johnny wraps the class up for the year, collects their course evaluation sheets and gets someone to take them upstairs to the main office.

A tremendous weight lifts from Ten’s shoulders when class ends and the others start to leave. Not really at the fact that he is finished with school forever, that he completed his senior year of college, or that he will be graduating at the end of the month.

In that moment, all that matters to him is getting the fuck away from this place with Johnny. Excitement brews in his chest at the thought of getting the man alone again. He wants to kiss him so badly his head is spinning.

There are still some students lingering and talking, but Ten is quicker than lightning to notice when Johnny disappears through the doorway, then the double doors of the basement. He sighs in annoyance, grabs his bag and chases after him. Johnny has long legs and can probably take the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t catch up to him until he gets outside.

“Hey!” Ten is totally out of breath as he runs up to the man in the parking lot. He’s so out of shape.

“Hey,” Johnny says casually, “What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t I say goodbye to my favorite professor? I’m not going to see him again until graduation. And who _knows_ after that.”

“Fine,” Johnny easily concedes. They get to his car but he makes no move to unlock it or get inside.

“I’m honestly… going to miss this,” Ten says, leaning against it to catch his breath, “Aren’t you?”

“I mean, _I’m_ not going anywhere,” Johnny says.

Ten rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

The man’s eyes soften. Perhaps he remembers then that Ten is a senior.

“Yeah. I am going to miss you. You were the only one that actually _did_ the final.”

Ten smirks, pride swelling in his chest. He’s Johnny’s _favorite_ student.

He’s also glad the man isn’t acting weird about what happened. But perhaps he thinks it too soon. It seems like they both remember _what_ exactly happened at the exact same time.

The next moment is tense. They both stand there in relative silence. Ten’s eyes start to roam. Johnny’s weight shifts from one leg to the next.

Ten clears his throat.

“In that case… I guess you don’t have a lot of grading to do this weekend?” he wonders, pursing his lips, running a hand through his hair.

Johnny looks back at him. Most of the cars in the parking lot started disappearing yesterday as staff and students eagerly vacated the campus for summer break. It’s quiet and there’s no one else around.

Ten feels electricity spark between them when the back of Johnny’s hand brushes against his.

“I’ll text you,” the man promises.

-

Except that it's been two whole days and Johnny still hasn’t texted him. How annoying. Ten waits alone at home, never straying too far from his phone.

It’s still spring, but summer is just around the corner and the apartment is starting to get hot. He can feel a migraine coming on.

Housekeeping keeps him busy for a while. He does the dishes and the laundry, empties the litter box and the trash, even cleans his room. He tries to continue the productive streak by working on his resume, then job searching, but he gets annoyed quickly because everyone wants him to have experience already but how the fuck is he supposed to get experience if no one wants to give him any?

So that only lasts for thirty minutes before he gives up, closes all the tabs and opens Netflix. He wastes a few hours like that and the cats keep him company, but then his mind feels so numb he wants to slam his head into the wall.

Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. He’s so _bored_ when Hendery isn’t home. An idle mind is truly the devil’s workshop. He still has a few needles left, so he gives himself another impulsive ear piercing, as if he doesn’t have enough already.

The pain makes the pounding in his head more pronounced. He’s sweating out what little moisture he has left in his body and probably dehydrated. So he takes a swig of the same water bottle he’s been working on for three days, yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor before rolling back over in his bed.

-

_Crack, pop, sizzle._

_“What is it?” Ten looked down at the aluminum can that was just handed to him, the pull tab standing up straight._

_“What, you've never had alcohol before?”_

_“I have,” he lied, “But, not like this.”_

_“Drink it. It’s good.”_

_Ten took a tentative sip. It tasted like a sour candy, but got bitter towards the back of his tongue. His throat burned. His stomach felt warm._

_“Where are we going?”_

_“My, my, my, little one. You sure do ask a lot of questions.”_

_“‘M just curious,” Ten murmured._

_“Oh, I know. You’re my curious little cat, aren’t you?”_

_Ten blushed, covering his face with his sweater paw._

_“I thought it would be nice if we had a sleepover, kitten. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”_

_Ten wasn’t very popular at school. He had never even been invited to a sleepover before. He wasn’t entirely sure what was supposed to happen at such an event, but he didn’t really care. He was mostly just glad this friend liked him enough to think of him and include him._

_“Yeah…”_

_That warmth bloomed in his body, starting in his stomach and tingling all the way down to his toes. The edges of reality became fuzzy and unfocused. It felt good and was incredibly distracting– so much so that Ten didn’t notice his questions weren’t exactly being answered._

_His parents were out of town that weekend. He was supposed to be watching his little sister, but she was old enough to look after herself for one night._

_Ten was always being watched these days, like a prisoner in his own home. He knew he wouldn’t get another chance like this._

_“...sounds like fun,” he took another swig._

-

The front door slams. Ten’s eyes break open.

He’s never been more grateful to hear Hendery come home than right now. He pushes himself up from the bed into a seated position, letting the covers fall down his arms to pool at his hips. Of course, his head is still throbbing with the headache he went to sleep in hopes to cure.

A thin sliver of light shines along the window pane, fingering at the bottom edge of his black out curtains. It’s still daytime, at least. He runs a hand through his messy blonde hair. He reaches over to the nightstand, waking his phone. Is it just him or is it always 4 oclock?

There’s a faint knock at the door before it opens.

“Hey,” Hendery pokes his head in, “Did you eat?”

Ten wonders why he still bothers to ask. He shakes his head, “I haven’t gotten up yet.”

It’s a lie.

“Oh okay. I got thai,” he says, “Come eat with me. And take your meds.”

The younger boy disappears again, leaving the door cracked slightly. Ten closes his eyes, head tilting back at the thought of having to get up. He wishes he was intoxicated. Being sober is hell. It really is a shame that the bottle of opioid painkillers and rum he had in his room have mysteriously vanished.

There’s no use asking his roommate about it. There's no hope Ten is ever getting it back. He at least wants his rum back, though. Hendery acts like he isn’t over twenty-one, as if he can’t just go to the corner store right now and buy more – as if he isn’t the one he sends there when he and his underaged friends want to get wasted.

Ten knows he has good intentions, but Kunhang has definitely been going overboard lately. His somewhat logical fears have manifested in the most illogical behavior.

Nevertheless, Ten is grateful for the boy. He has taken on a responsibility that is not his own because he cares about him. So no matter how crazy Hendery gets to counteract his own crazy, he’ll never deserve him.

There’s food. He might as well eat it. He shoves the duvet aside and slides out of bed.

-

Ten doesn’t finish even half of a serving, but he eats nonetheless. Hendery stands from the table to store the leftovers in the fridge.

The elder purses his lips in contemplation. He’s not going to get his drugs back, but he needs _something_. He jumps out of his seat and follows the boy into the kitchen.

“ _Henderyyy_ ,” he sings, curling his arms around his best friend’s waist, resting his head between his shoulder blades. The younger hums back.

“I’m _bored_. Hang out with me.”

Kunhang chuckles, “What do you want to do?”

“Hmm. Let’s go out tonight. Just us,” he suggests.

“All of a sudden?”

“Yeah, why not? We should celebrate the end of the semester.”

“But we did that last weekend.”

“We should do it again _this_ weekend.”

“You shouldn’t drink, though,” Kunhang reminds.

“Let’s smoke, then,” Ten mutters. It’s the obvious answer.

“Alright,” he sighs.

-

Hendery’s fake is pretty legit. They never have problems getting into clubs and stuff, but it’s not like they ever even go anywhere but this one gay bar in the city. They literally always end up there because the music is better, the drinks are cheaper and the people are nicer. Plus, the obvious reason that everyone is _gay_.

Ten really doesn’t appreciate his gay best friend enough. He can’t imagine what life would be like if Hendery was straight– if he dragged him along to hetero bars and brought _girls_ back to their apartment. He shudders.

Well, Hendery is actually bi, but he hasn’t dated a girl since high school. Ten doesn’t mean to erase him, but it’s just hard to remember he likes pussy when he’s letting these grown men put their hands on his soft skin, giggling like a schoolgirl when they offer to buy him drinks.

He’s currently carrying on what seems like a stimulating conversation with a tall brunette at the end of the bar, elbow propped onto it. He’s smiling, for once. Ten wonders what they’re talking about.

He can’t deny he’s jealous as he watches from a table on the other side of the room. He wishes he was as handsome and charming as Hendery, like a prince. Or at least that someone would offer to buy him a drink. Not that he would even say yes. He _shouldn’t be drinking_ and he’s not really in the mood to interact with anyone.

He honestly just baited Hendery into coming out with him so he didn’t have to spend another night sober, disrtubed by his own thoughts and struggling to sleep. He was high at some point, but it’s long faded. He checks his phone because it’s an obsessive habit at this point, but of course there’s no new messages.

Fuck Johnny Seo to be honest.

It’s about time for a cigarette so he stands, pushing the chair back with a screech. He turns, wading through the crowd of people and out the door at the back to the veranda where a few others are smoking. The air is cool and humid and the wood is wet under his tennis shoes when he steps out onto it, although he doesn’t remember it raining today.

He finds a vacant corner, digs a cigarette out of his jean jacket and fits it between his lips. He lights it and takes a drag, eyes fluttering as he exhales. He turns his back to the bar, leaning his weight on the railing.

The buzz of voices, laughter, the thump of the bass and the sound of the traffic on the street below is all so overstimulating. He draws the vapor into his lungs and the nicotine rushes down his arms and legs. It calms him for a moment.

The anxiety leaps right back into his chest when he feels an arm sliding over his shoulders.

“Fuck!” Ten startles, gripping his chest as Hendery’s goofy smile comes into view, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” the younger laughs gently. Ten’s can’t get mad. He’s too pretty–glassy eyes, rosy cheeks, wispy, messy blonde hair cascading across his forehead. He looks like a porcelain doll, or an angel from a renaissance painting. Sometimes Ten wishes he could just fall in love with him instead.

“What, you didn’t like him?” he nudges Hendery with his elbow, eyes flickering in the direction of the bar.

“He was nice. Not really my type, though. I followed him on IG,” he explains.

“I didn’t know you had a type.”

“I mean, I don’t, really–I just knew he wasn’t it,” Hendery giggles, “I tried.”

Ten smiles, heart melting when he looks at him. This is something he doesn’t see often. He’s just a kid, but he’s always so high strung because of Ten. What a truly terrible person he is to get stuck with.

“Try harder. You need a boyfriend for the summer,” he says. Maybe if Hendery had a distraction and would stop breathing down Ten’s neck.

“Oh, _please_! Now you sound like my sisters,” the boy complains.

The lesbian couple that was at the table behind them stand and go back inside. Ten is forever grateful. He takes the empty seat.

“This is a real concern. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Ten,” Hendery scoffs, “There’s more important things in life than sex.”

“There’s nothing _important_ in life, silly. Life itself isn’t even important. There’s like, seven billion of us here,” Ten rants.

“Aish, here we go.Don’t be so grim. Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating?”

“My mood got ruined,” Ten grumbles. He’s also sober.

“Why?” Kunhang laughs.

Ten shrugs, averting his gaze. He suddenly feels inexplicably annoyed with himself.

The younger sighs. He steps closer, dragging the other empty chair over and plopping himself down onto it, “What?”

Ten obviously can’t say what happened. He can’t say that for months he’s been feeling like he’s ruined Kunhang’s life. He can’t say he feels guilty for all the things he’s said and done to him, the pain and suffering he’s caused.

Ten feels like he corrupted him or stole his innocence away– like his own reckless choices and inability to care about anyone or anything has left him with deep seated trust issues.

Kunhang doesn’t trust him. How can he? Ten has been messing with his head since they were in high school. It’s weird, like they both know something is off, but neither of them wants to say anything.

Ten’s coming of age was gloomy, like a long day with dark, stormy clouds that never dissipated. Every year was the same sickly sweet self hatred and candied existential torture, glazed with intrusive thoughts and sprinkled with self destructive impulses.

Kunhang was his silver lining. His elixir.

“‘M just thinking about high school,” he says instead.

“What about high school?” Kunhang looks at him, eyes narrowing. He looks worried. He knows what happened when Ten was a teenager.

So many fucked up things had happened.

“Do you remember when we used to skip class and hang out in the library?” he forces the memories back down.

“Yeah. Remember that time you filled your water bottle with vodka and we drank it in there.”

“And we spent the whole last period completely fucked up.”

“Yess. I hated that stupid art class. That was the only time it was fun.”

The elective was the only class they had together, being two grade levels apart. Ten wishes he could go back in time and redo those years. He wishes he had enjoyed those times more. He wishes he dreamt about them instead.

“I miss those days. Being an adult sucks,” Hendery sighs.

“ _Seriously_. My life is going _nowhere_. I have no fucking clue what I’m gonna do,” Ten groans, dropping his head onto his hands.

“What? Dude, you just finished _college_. You’re literally about to graduate. That’s like, huge. I still have two more years to go.”

“Yeah, but now what?” Ten asks.

 _Now fucking what?_ Thinking about the future gives him so much anxiety. He’s already a few tens of thousands of dollars in debt and he has no real job plan.

“You can do whatever you want to do. You’re gonna have a degree. You’ll find a good job. We’ll be okay,” Kunhang insists.

“I can’t find a real job looking like _this_. I’ll be lucky if I can even get something at the mall,” he winces. He likes his piercings and he designed his tattoos himself but everytime he sees his parents they remind him how careless he was for getting them.

“That’s not true. People don’t care about piercings and tattoos anymore.”

Ten hates that this _kid_ always has to talk _him_ off the ledge. He looks at his best friend, a sour feeling growing in his chest.

“I just… I _really_ don’t want to grow up, Hendery,” he swallows hard, features twisting up.

Being depressed as a child is so weird. Because one day, you get older and when you’re still _here_ , you’re confronted with the realization that you will have to to do some things you never imagined. Ten never thought he would make it this far.

“I know. Me neither,” the boy simpers. He takes Ten’s cigarette, ashing it before it burns his fingers.

Ten rubs his eyes, looking away. Kunhang stands.

“Come on, Peter Pan,” he outstretches his hand, “Let’s go home.”

-

Ten gets what he’s been waiting for on Sunday afternoon. He’s still got black hair dye sitting on his head when his phone dings with the message notification.

He dives onto his bed as soon as he hears and grabs it. It should be embarrassing that he’s so eager. But he’s been waiting three whole fucking days for Professor Seo to text him, he doesn’t even care.

_Hey. What’s up?_

_Nothing. Just waiting for you to text me -_-_

_Sorry. I actually did have to grade a few things._

Ten rolls his eyes.

_I read your paper._

_Uh oh._

_You didn’t plagiarize, right?_

_Rude. No_

_It was good._

_….thanks_

_Are you busy tonight?_

_Nah_

_Do you want to come over?_

The question gives him a head rush. He’s already picturing going to Johnny’s home, imagining what it looks like. His stomach clenches at the thought of what they might get up to when they’re alone.

_Yeah_

Although there’s a little twinge of anxiety in the back of his mind, he tries his best to ignore it as he sends his address then puts his phone down to get ready.

-

_I’m outside._

It’s perfect timing that Johnny texts him.

And it’s a good thing Ten spends like a hour in the bathroom while Hendery’s been banging on the door complaining that he needs to take a shit because as soon as he steps out, the younger shoves past him in a haste and doesn’t even notice that he’s wearing tight black jeans and eyeliner.

He uses the opportunity of his roommate being…preoccupied to pack a few things, namely his charger, lighter, a spare toothbrush and a change of clothes, before hoisting the bag over his shoulder and exiting the flat.

It’s not that he didn’t want to tell Kunhang where he was going or that he couldn’t. Ten just didn’t want to fight with him. They’ve been on good terms lately and he knows this is probably going to fuck it up but he’ll douse that fire when it starts.

The guilt of sneaking out is almost instantly quelled by the excitement of where he’s going. The night air is crisp and cool when he steps outside into it. His eye quickly finds the familiar black acura parked on the curb. Ten slowly approaches the car, reaching for the handle and opening the passenger side door.

“Hey,” he chirps when he sees Johnny. He pulls the door shut behind him.

“Hi,” the older looks up from his phone.

Johnny looks better than one should in a black t-shirt and loose fitting joggers, a silver pendant around his neck and matching silver watch. His hair is soft and unstyled, dark brown and falling over his eyes. He smells like dark wood and pine, like green earth and a misty forest. Ten doesn’t even try to pretend he isn’t staring.

“You had dinner?”

“Yeah,” Ten snaps himself out of it long enough to respond.

“Good. Shall we?” Johnny smiles before shifting into reverse.

-

The night drive is nice. The air is cool enough to leave the windows down, to let the wind breathe kisses on his crown. The moon is out, it’s eerie light peeking through the trees that line the dimly lit back roads. Johnny lives a bit far, like thirty minutes out. The city is long gone and Ten finds the suburban scenery relaxing.

He uses the time to calm his mind. He tries his best to think positively, to just be glad he’s with Johnny and that he’s going to spend time with him.

It’s what he wanted, right? But now that he’s here, he feels so nervous. _This is it_ , Ten hears a voice say. _This is your last moment before a disaster_. _This is the moment your thoughts, wishes and fantasies are either terrorized or actualized_.

As always, his mind is consumed with torment. What if Johnny ends up being just like all the rest? What if Ten fucks everything up like he always seems to? What if they get to that point and… Johnny doesn’t like what he sees?

 _Fuck_. His stomach is churning. He needs a cigarette.

But it’s too late. They’re turning into a small neighborhood, then a street, then a driveway. Johnny parks, then cuts the engine, muting the radio and flicking on the interior lights.

“You good?” the man looks over, “You’re quiet.”

“I’m fine. I missed you,” Ten says, like he needs to remind himself why he should be ecstatic and not so anxious he’s about to puke.

“I missed you too,” Johnny admits.

“Really?” Ten’s heart hurts. As much as it felt like eons, it’s only been three days.

“Of course,” the man grabs his phone, “Come on.”

Ten undoes his seatbelt, opens the door, grabs his bag and slides out of the seat. He gives Johnny’s house - a relatively large, albeit modern looking home with a stone exterior and black shutters - a once over.

Johnny locks the car and Ten follows him up the small concrete path to the front door.

It’s warm inside. Quiet. The dining room is directly to the right, the stairwell directly ahead. Then there’s a long dark mahogany hall that stretches into a space that the kitchen and living room seem to share. It feels even bigger inside. Like, big enough for a three or four person family.

How disturbing it is that Johnny lives in it alone.

Johnny lays his keys on the table and toes off his sneakers.

“Nice place,” is all Ten finds the courage to say as he removes his own shoes.

“Thanks,” the man hums.

There’s a moment where they’re both just standing there. He’s not sure what to do.

Johnny looks at him for what feels like a long time, eyes traveling over his face. Before the younger can brattily ask him what he's looking at, the man steps closer, entering his personal space.

A strong arm slides around Ten’s waist and pulls him forward. Ten closes his eyes, exhaling, easy as their bodies collide. He wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, tucking his face against Johnny’s firm chest. He fists the fabric of his shirt like he’s holding on for dear life, like if he doesn’t, he might float away.

They stay like that for a minute or two at least, and Ten can feel his heart rate slowing, his breaths matching the steady rise and fall of Johnny’s diaphragm. It’s silly how a hug is enough to clear his head and soothe his stress. It doesn’t go away completely, but the screaming self doubt fades into a gentle whisper in the back of his mind.

Johnny is so warm. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“You want to watch a movie?” he asks.

“Yeah. Sure,” Ten agrees.

-

“Guess what I found at the supermarket the other day,” Johnny says, giddy like a child.

“What?” Ten drops his bag on the first couch he sees. The man swipes the dvd from the coffee table and holds it up. Alfred Hitchcock’s _Psycho_.

“Oh, perfect,” he breathes. Johnny turns the tv on. “I wanted to watch this with you.”

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? Once I get on this sectional I’m not likely to get back up for a long time,” he warns as he crosses the room to insert the disk.

“No thanks,” Ten laughs.

Johnny dims the lights and brings the remote with him to his seat. He tucks a pillow beneath his head and kicks his feet up on the long end of the sectional, crossing his ankles.

He pats the space beside him and Ten realizes he’s still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He sits down in the center of the couch, an arms length away from the man.

“Ten,” Johnny says delicately, “Come here.”

Ten swallows hard. He scoots over half an inch.

“A _little_ closer,” the elder suggests. His eyes are warm and sweet like caramel and Ten feels like an idiot.

“Sorry,” Ten mumbles as he goes over to where Johnny is. He lies down and Johnny lifts his arm, welcoming Ten underneath it like a bird might welcome a baby chick under its wing.

“You’re fine,” Johnny hums.

Ten rests his head on his chest. After a few moments he’s finally able to stop focusing on his own rapidly beating heart and just listen to Johnny’s instead.

They get settled in time for the opening scene, and Ten really tries to stop thinking and just watch the goddamn movie.

-

Ten doesn’t realize he’s dozed off until he wakes up. His eyelids are heavy and it’s difficult to break them open. The room is dark, lit only by the flickering glow of the tv mounted on the wall.

It takes him a few moments to collect himself and remember where he is.

This is Johnny’s house. Now hyper aware, he starts to sit up, but a hand rests on the back of his neck, stopping him.

He’s not sure how he ended up in this position — he’s laying half on top of Johnny, one leg between his, head on his chest, and fingers curled in the loose fabric of his cotton tee.

He must have knocked out pretty quickly after the movie started and stayed out for at least an hour because the credits are rolling. He feels a bit bad about that. All that overthinking must have tired him out.

“What did I miss?” he stirs.

“A lot,” Johnny hums, matter of factly.

“Oops,” Ten smiles, sleepy, “It’s your fault.”

“How so?” the hand slides down to his back, pausing between his shoulder blades.

“You’re so warm,” he says, as if it offers any explanation, “You remind me of my bed.”

“My bad,” Johnny chuckles.

How can someone’s proximity render him totally defenseless? How could he completely drift out of consciousness into such a vulnerable state as sleep?

He wants to be embarrassed, but Johnny really doesn’t seem to mind. It’s crazy. He must trust him, Ten realizes. Somewhere deep in his heart, scathed and scarred by so many before, he must truly believe that Johnny is good.

His mind is still muddied with sleep, but he is cognizant enough to realize how insane this is. He’s really in Johnny’s home, in Johnny’s living room, on Johnny’s couch, _with_ Johnny.

The man’s warm palm rubs along the curve of Ten’s back. He closes his eyes, reveling in it.

Johnny evokes such a strange feeling in him. His senses are overloaded. All Ten can think about is the sturdiness of Johnny’s body underneath him, his hand sliding up and down the path of his spine over his shirt and the ridiculously sweet scent of his cologne. These details cloud his mind and body in the most natural way.

If Ten didn’t know better, he’d think it was a dream. Being this close to Johnny is _devastating_ to every part of him.

Ten is _devastated_.

“Johnny,” he says his name just because he can, because for years he was unable to.

How did they get here? It seems like only yesterday he was just a student in Professor Seo’s communication theory class.

“Mhm,” he answers, before his hand sneaks up under the hem of Ten’s shirt, fingertips colliding with the smooth skin of his back. The contact makes Ten shudder and he has to stop himself from letting out an embarrassing sound.

He’s never been so strongly affected by someone’s touch before. It’s innocent enough and they’re already so close but suddenly all Ten wants—needs _,_ is to get _closer_. He _needs_ to kiss Johnny. He’s been wanting it for years, but the desire has become so much stronger since that first time. He still remembers how the man tasted, how his lips felt underneath his own.

Ten is swimming in Johnny but he wants to drown.

He sits up slightly and the hand slips even further down to the lowest point of his back. He has to squint to see Johnny in the dark, to stroke the edges of his beautiful face–his cheekbones, his full, bottom lip, his black tea and honey brown gaze. It holds the younger with a tenderness that makes him feel weak.

Johnny’s other hand cups the side of his face, thumb caressing the hollow of his cheek. Ten leans into it, eyes fluttering shut.

He inhales through his nose as Johnny’s thumb traces over his mouth. It lingers on the ring in the corner of his bottom lip before pushing up into the top. Ten frowns.

It was easy to fantasize about Johnny from the classroom or the comfort of his own bedroom, but now that Ten is actually here, in his professor’s house, laying with him on his couch, he is so overwhelmed by his own thoughts.

Ten wants to sleep with Johnny. He is unable to think about anything else.

His lips part on their own, but it’s Johnny’s choice to press the finger inside. He nudges it between his teeth, tracing idly over the bottom row.

For once Ten doesn’t allow himself to think and bites down on it gently. He curls his tongue, dragging his piercing over the pad of Johnny’s thumb.

Ten opens his eyes. His stomach dips when he sees the man’s expression– his jaw drawn tight, mouth set into a hard line. The sight spurs him on, so he does it again and this time, their eyes meet.

Sure, licking Johnny’s fingers is nice, but Ten is definitely relieved when the man moves his hand away to curl in his hair instead, gripping and pulling hard. Ten lurches forward. The sudden show of strength catches him off guard. He’s wide awake now.

Ten’s vision is shrouded by his hair, but he can tell Johnny is looking at him–analyzing him, absorbing everything. He can feel the difference so clearly now it’s comical.

But there’s nothing funny about his mouth when it fits his own, warm and velvet and everything Ten has ever wanted in life, nor the way his head angles slightly left, tongue teasing along the seam of his lips before pressing inside.

Ten has kissed a few men in his lifetime — not that he wants to be thinking about any of them now when he has this one forged of fallen stars underneath him— but it’s worthy to note that among all of them none have ever been so attentive to his response.

Johnny kisses with patience in the beginning. He waits for Ten, as if he is watching and listening with his lips only. He responds to the younger’s movements with calm, calculated ones, never pushing his own will.

But Ten is impatient. Johnny seems content to take it slow, to relish in the hot, wet caress of Ten’s mouth, to just indulge in the slick feeling of Ten’s tongue flicking out toward his molars and eagerly colliding with his own. Ten wants more, to push Johnny until he breaks out of this tepid nature. And in a backwards way, it works.

Johnny uses his jaw to open Ten up wider before taking control, using his tongue to force his back into his own mouth. The action almost seems like a command or a challenge. It hints to something Ten so desperately wants to explore.

Johnny underneath him, Johnny’s hand feeling up his back, Johnny's tongue in his mouth, Johnny's fingers pulling his hair. It’s so much all at once and Ten feels a warmth crawling in his veins, spreading slowly but surely to the rest of him.

He is human, after all, and it’s been quite some time since someone has held him like he is valuable and cherished. It’s been even longer since he was kissed like this, with reckless abandon as if tomorrow is the end of the fucking world.

That, and the fact that it’s _Johnny_ doing this, devoting all of his attention to Ten, like they are the only people in existence. It’s beautiful, really.

When Johnny’s tongue curls along the roof of Ten’s mouth, he shudders. The man reads him effortlessly and kisses him harder, finally demanding more. Ten gives it to him, willingly.

But he wants to give Johnny _everything_. Ten wants him to strip all his thoughts away, to erase him, absolve him of his existence and leave him cold and bare, then to brand him with his lips and tongue and teeth. He wants to wallow in it, to bathe in Johnny’s affliction like sun rays and let it wash over him again and again until his name is the only thing he knows, the only string of consonants and vowels this wretched form can utter.

He wants so _much_ and he’s losing control, a tornado of thoughts and feelings whirring in his head.

He should be content with the hot slide of Johnny Seo’s mouth against his, his hard body underneath his, but Ten is _greedy_. All he can think about is taking it even further. He wants to push the limits, test the bounds of whatever this is.

He wants Johnny to take his clothes off.

The mental image alone is enough to steal all the oxygen from his lungs. Ten pulls back from the kiss slightly, touching their noses. It’s not at all because he wants to slow down; he’s about to pass out.

And Johnny, ever the opportunist, tugs on his hair until he’s forced to tilt his head back. The action bares his neck and the elder attaches his lips to it.

Ten trembles as they slowly ascend, leaving a wet trail in their wake. He feels Johnny’s tongue connect with the skin of his pulse before his lips close over it, sucking softly.

“Mm,” Ten moans weakly, “ _Johnny_.”

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he murmurs, nipping at his jaw.

“Yeah,” he admits, perhaps too quickly.

-

The trip is short, but it’s long enough to sober Ten up. He stares at where they’re connected– the relatively large hand wrapped around his tiny wrist and leading him to the master bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall. Johnny pushes the door and it creaks open slowly. It’s dark inside, and he instinctively goes for the light, but Ten makes a pained sound.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Johnny turns completely and wraps his arms around Ten’s small waist, drawing him tight against his chest once more.

 _Fuck_. They’re in Johnny’s _room_. It’s hard to see, but Ten can make out his nightstand and his queen size bed directly to the left. Something like anticipation floods his nervous system, but it feels an awful lot like anxiety too.

Johnny’s mouth finds his again and it’s like coming home. His lips open Ten’s slowly, searching. His tongue rubs against Ten’s lazily as his hands wander up Ten’s shirt, feeling over his back, his sides. The combination of sensations has a whine building in his throat, slipping out against his will.

Johnny seems affected by the sound. His breaths start to pick up and his fingers press _harder_ into Ten’s skin, dimpling it. The younger pushes back into the touch, needy. He wants it everywhere.

It drifts down his waist, hips, and thighs over his jeans, fingers groping the flesh of his ass and Ten can feel himself getting aroused.

He shudders when he feels the man’s erection nudging his belly through their clothes. _Oh God_. Ten can’t believe this is happening–that Johnny is _turned on_ , just from touching and kissing him. _Christ_. Johnny starts grinding slowly, seeking friction between their bodies. He feels _big_.

But before Ten can even process the unbelievable fact that his teacher _wants to fuck him_ , his anxiety flares. He can’t shake the feelings of fear and dread tumbling over each other in his gut.

He just needs to tell him.

“Johnny,” Ten murmurs against him. His fingers curl in the fabric of the man’s shirt, just holding him still.

“Hm?” he pulls back. Ten’s eyes go distant.

“We gotta…talk about something. Can you sit?”

Johnny nods. He pulls away, albeit reluctantly and sits on the edge of the bed. Ten misses him already.

“What’s up?”

The one upside to this situation is that Ten gets to see how disheveled Johnny looks– his eyes glazed over, kiss swollen lips, unruly hair he only makes worse by running his hand through it.

“I’m… I’m not what you think,” he grimaces. How the hell is he going to do this? Ten is _terrible_ at explaining things.

“What do you mean?” the elder prompts.

Ten sighs, trying not to mentally prepare himself for a rejection. It’s a fifty-fifty chance that will be the outcome of this.

Johnny beckons him over. Ten steps forward, standing between his legs.

Johnny takes his hand from where it hangs flaccid at his side. Lips brush against the back of it before his fingers travel up his forearm, gently massaging the flesh. The contact really does soothe him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… my body. It’s...weird,” Ten finally speaks.

Johnny frowns, “Okay.”

_He doesn’t understand._

Ten realizes he’s being vague but it’s because the thought of outright telling Johnny is kind of unbearable. Memories of past experiences leave a bad taste in his mouth.

He’s met men, talked to some for weeks and months, even _dated_ them, only to get to this point and have them turn on him immediately, totally confused and disgusted or worse, turned off. He’s familiar with his particular situation now and it isn’t something that bothers him the same way it did at earlier stages of life. That’s because in his experience, many men were fine with it. In fact at one point, sex, male attention and their approval was the _only_ thing that validated Ten. He learned quickly that a lot of cis men will fuck anything and were not particularly inclined to dismiss him. But getting rejected is a very real possibility he’s forced to confront every time he gets this far with someone. It’s happened before and it could happen again. It feels a lot like flipping a coin to determine fate, like a game of Russian roulette.

Ten usually told them straight up, but he honestly just never found the right moment to tell Johnny. He created this fantasy in his mind – he and Johnny. He allowed himself to hope the man could embrace him, to kiss him and touch him because he was smart. Because Johnny understood that things were not black and white. Because he was a good person. Because Ten wanted him to be.

In hindsight, it was reckless and stupid. This is not a fucking fairy tale. This is _real_.

The prospect of that fantasy crumbling is suddenly _too_ real.

Ten closes his eyes. He can feel himself spiraling into a dark place, his mind whirring with things, fears, and memories he doesn’t want to think about.

He doesn’t want to get hurt again. He doesn’t want this to be the end.

“Hey,” the man calls, his voice tender.

But isn’t it better to know now for sure that Johnny doesn’t want him, than to waste any more time dreaming about him? Although his stomach is turning at the thought of a humiliating rejection, Ten decides it’s worth a shot. Especially after coming this far.

“Will you show me?” Johnny kisses his tattoo, peering up at him through his hair.

Because even if he hates Ten, he wouldn’t hurt him. Johnny would never do that. Ten feels much better when he realizes that.

“Okay,” he agrees.

Ten touches his face gently with his free hand, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. Johnny sucks a breath in through his nose. His grip on Ten’s arm tightens as he pulls him back into his space.

Ten climbs on top of him easily, kneeling on either side of the mattress and stitching their torsos. He circles his arms around Johnny’s neck and just holds him for a moment, overcome with emotion and trying hard not to consider the likelihood that this is the end. Johnny’s hands run over his sides, down to his hips, fingers eventually dipping under the waist of his jeans.

Ten touches his forehead against his and just breathes in. Johnny tips his head back to look at him. He pushes Ten’s hair out of his face, tucking it messily behind his ear. He touches him so gently, as if he’s made of thinly blown glass. But Ten is far from fragile. Their mouths meet again and he can’t resist the urge to bite Johnny’s bottom lip as a reminder, pulling it away from his gums.

The man remembers. He suddenly flips them, gently pushing the younger down on the mattress. Ten lands on his back in the middle of it and Johnny rolls on top. He closes in on Ten again, planting his mouth against his as his hands curl under the hem of his shirt. His tongue pushes at Ten’s lips until he parts them, drawing Johnny back into his mouth.

It becomes heavy again, quicker than before. Now that Ten is actually _on the man’s bed,_ his head is spinning. Everything he’s feeling doubles, then triples.

Ten tangles his hand in Johnny’s hair, fingers twisting, nails slightly scratching his scalp as those lips trail hot and wet over his jaw, down the side of his neck. Johnny’s hand circles his leg, just above his knee and slides up to the top of his thigh. His fingers grip the flesh through his jeans, squeezing gently.

Johnny’s lips find that spot just under Ten’s ear and the younger arches underneath him, the motion aligning their chests, their hips.

Johnny grinds slowly against his inner thigh as he feels up his sides. An exhausting combination of excitement and anxiety streamlines through Ten when he feels his shirt lifting.

“Okay?” the man murmurs.

“Yeah,” Ten exhales, trying to stay calm.

Johnny pushes his shirt up, up. Ten disentangles himself from it, letting it get tossed to the floor.

He can tell the man is actively trying not to stare, probably because of what he just said a few moments ago. However, there’s no hiding the way his breath catches in his throat when he sees the metal barbells cutting through Ten’s nipples.

“Oh. I didn’t know you had these,” he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, “I should’ve known.”

“Mhm. Do you like them?” Ten regains his confidence for a moment.

“I do,” Johnny declares, tracing over his ribs, eyes lingering for a moment on the silver bar through the flesh above his naval.

He’s sure Johnny also sees the self harm scars and burn marks, tons, literally hundreds of them on his belly, his sides. There are even more on his thighs, but he’s sure Johnny will be too focused on _other_ things to notice.

The man kisses down his chest, taking one of the sensitive buds into his mouth. Ten whines, pulling his hair.

Johnny quickly undoes the button and the zipper on his jeans, hooking his fingers underneath. He looks up and the younger nods his consent before he pulls them down his thighs.

And it takes a tremendous amount of mental and emotional strength to do this– to show himself to someone new. Especially after everything that’s happened. A part of him hates sex for this very reason, among many others. A sort of ptsd is awakened in all of Ten’s intimate experiences, and it’s a battle of the mind not to flee right now before Johnny even has the chance to react. There are so many layers of trauma and discomfort to unfold, so many different complex reasons he struggles with things that should be simple. It’s honestly tiring to even exist. Ten wishes he were different. Or that it would all just stop.

His underwear comes down in one swift motion and lands on the floor. Ten’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

He can tell it takes Johnny a long moment to process what he’s looking at, to put the pieces together on what he was trying to say before. If he’s shocked, turned off, or worse, pissed, he doesn’t show it on his face.

In fact, there’s almost no reaction at all that he’s staring at what appears to be female genitalia and not male.

“Is it okay?” Ten finds himself asking, so insecure of this thing between his legs. He bites his index finger, impatiently awaiting some response.

His silence is deafening. It rings in his ears like an alarm waking him from this ridiculous fantasy.

Ten is already convincing himself that it’s over. He’s so focused on feeling like shit that he almost doesn’t hear the words leaving Johnny’s mouth.

“It’s perfect,” the man finally speaks, breathless.

“What?” Ten is stunned.

Johnny presses his fingers into his jaw and kisses him hard, “You’re perfect.”

The word sends a shiver down Ten’s spine. _Perfect_.

Johnny drags his own shirt over his head, his hair flailing in all directions. Ten’s mouth goes dry when he finally sees his body, his chest, his broad shoulders completely bare and up close after four years of silent thirst.

He runs his fingers over the ridges in his stomach, trailing them lower to the elegant v of his hips, where a light trail of hair leads Ten’s gaze toward his groin. He wants Johnny’s pants off right now.

“Johnny,” he calls, desperate. Those eyes find his in an instant.

“I love it when you say my name,” he cups Ten’s hand, kissing his fingers, “I hated when you called me so formally.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Johnny’s eyes burn.

“Did you ever think about me?” Ten has to know.

“I thought about you every day. I always wondered what hair color you would do next, or if you would get another piercing. I got so invested in you— so excited to just _see_ you, and I didn’t even know why.”

“Did you ever imagine us… like this?” Ten smooths his hands up Johnny’s chest, his neck. The man hesitates.

“Because I did. I fantasized about you in class. And then at home…” Ten trails, suddenly embarrassed.

“Yeah?” Johnny urges.

“I thought about you when I touched myself,” he admits.

“Oh my God, baby,” Johnny moans at that. Warmth pools between Ten’s thighs at the pet name.

“I thought about you too,” the older says, “I felt guilty. You were just my student, but I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

And that – that does something to Ten. The knowledge that his teacher wanted him too. All of a sudden he needs Johnny, a thousand times more than he already did.

“Please,” he begs, drawing him closer, “I want you,”

“Don’t beg,” Johnny kisses him, a tender smile breaking his lips, “I’m already yours,”

Then Johnny’s hand drops between his legs, palm sliding along the inside of his thigh. He holds Ten’s gaze as he inches closer and closer to where he _aches_.

Ten inhales, gripping Johnny tighter when he makes contact. His fingertips trail through the slick folds, just teasing, experimenting. He is so wet already, but feels another wave of arousal ebb through him when Johnny’s thumb pushes up into his clit, circling it slowly.

Johnny’s first finger slips into Ten easily, going all the way to the last knuckle before pulling out. His stomach flutters as his walls clench pathetically around nothing, more hot slick dribbling out. Johnny presses it back inside, and Ten whimpers, head lolling back.

“Mm. You like that?” he teases.

“Yeah,” Ten feels like he is on fire, “More.”

Then two digits are pressing deep inside, where he’s so, so sensitive. Johnny’s fingers are bigger than his own, but Ten makes room for them easily. He slides them in and out a few times before settling into a rhythm.

It’s not much, but Ten is wound so tightly from everything so far. He can already feel himself getting lost in what Johnny is doing to him, mind going blank for the first time all night and shuddering through every breath. He can’t believe this is happening.

Johnny’s glare keeps him pinned to the bed. He dips down, wrapping his lips around Ten’s left nipple. He flicks his tongue over it, tantalizing, fingers fucking him gently,

“Oh, _Johnny_ ,” Ten trembles at the combined stimulation. He feels hot everywhere, in his chest, on his back, between his hips. The heat is searing like lighting, rushing down his spine. He’s already coming undone, just from this.

Johnny stares at him, eyes curling into crescents in a way that’s so unfair for the current circumstances. A complex emotion simmers in the bottom of Ten’s stomach. Though he doesn't get a chance to figure it out because then Johnny crooks his fingers upward, changing the angle and Ten’s eyes roll as pleasure jumbles any and all rational thought in his mind.

Johnny just smirks at his response. It’s suddenly so intense as that heat that’s been flourishing low in his belly stretches to the rest of his body.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he bites Ten’s nipple, tugging it gently with his teeth, then, “Cum for me.”

That’s all it takes to send Ten over the edge. His orgasm crashes over him like a wave on the shore, carrying him under its powerful current.

He moans softly, hips rocking. Johnny gentles him through it, fingers thrusting, thumb rubbing against his clit. Ten’s head knocks back against the mattress as the high starts to fade.

“I want you inside,” his voice shakes. He’s still shuddering with the aftershocks but he knows what his priorities are.

The older man doesn’t need to be told twice. He drags his fingers out slowly, a long, thin string of slick breaking between them.

Johnny then climbs off the bed and tugs his pants down. He kicks them off his legs and discards them on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

His boxers come down quickly, almost too quickly for Ten to mentally prepare himself to see Johnny’s cock. But he manages to catch himself just before he lets out a loud groan when he does.

He always thought Professor Seo would have a big dick, but he never imagined it would be like this. Johnny is huge— _massive_ even. Ten has seen a few dicks in his life, but this is by far the most impressive. Heat boils in his belly at the thought of Johnny putting that _inside_ him.

“Fuck,” he sits up slightly on his elbows to get a better look. He falls back when Johnny grips his ankle, yanking him to the edge of the mattress so that his legs hang over the side of it.

“What?”

“You’re _big_ ,” Ten awes, unable to take his eyes away as Johnny swipes a condom from the nightstand, tears the wrapper and uses his fist to roll it on. Ten’s fingers trail over his own nipples as Johnny brings it between his thighs and drags it between the folds to gather the wetness.

“Uhuh. Think you can take it?” Johnny asks, breaths picking up as he spreads the slick along his hard length, jerking it a few times.

“Fuck, yes,” Ten says as Johnny grips his thigh, pulling his leg over his hip.

He pushes the blunt tip up against Ten’s opening slowly, his hands shaking a little with concentration.

And Ten gasps as his teacher, more than twice his age, his college professor of four long years penetrates him for the first time. He thought about this moment so much but all those fantasies pale in comparison.

Johnny slides in to the hilt in one agonizingly long thrust, stopping when his balls press against Ten’s perineum. And Ten is not a virgin - far from it, but Johnny makes him feel like one. It’s been months since he last got fucked, and he’s tight. Taking a cock as big as his for the first time in so long is a lot.

He needs a minute to fully adjust to his size. Johnny runs his hand over Ten’s body, his soothing touch distracting him from the initial discomfort. Ten feels so full he could burst, but it’s a feeling he enjoys. He loves pain and being pushed to his limit. It makes his mind go fuzzy at the edges.

“How is it?” Johnny asks, genuinely concerned.

“It’s good. You feel so good,” Ten can’t find the will to say much else, “Kiss me.”

Johnny does.

When all he can focus on is the satisfaction of finally getting Johnny’s dick, how it feels, thick and hot and hard and sitting deep inside, stretching him out, Ten hooks his ankles at the base of Johnny’s spine and gives him the go ahead.

Finally, _finally_ , Johnny begins to move. He rolls his hips a couple times, just getting them both used to how it feels. Ten is so wet it’s absurd, probably the most aroused he’s ever been in his entire life. It makes it easy for the man to slip almost all the way out before driving back in, again and again.

His lips part, hands coming around Johnny’s neck and holding him as he finds the rhythm, stroking long and slow. Ten can feel everything, everywhere. Johnny’s cock rubs back and forth along his walls each time and he soon finds himself dizzied by the sensation, so intense so soon after the first orgasm.

“ _Johnny…_ _Johnny_ ,” he moans as the excruciating heat begins to build again, simmering along his nerve endings and stretching down to his toes. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat collecting in his collar bones, beading along his brow and sticking his black hair to his forehead.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Say my name. You sound so sweet,”

Ten writhes against him, long nails raking down his chest.

“ _Johnny—_ ,” he says it again, unable to think of anything else besides the hot slide of Johnny’s dick between his legs, fucking so deep he swears he can feel it in the back of his throat.

Ten can barely keep his eyes open but he has to. The fact that he can make his professor look like this is _incredible_. _Johnny_ looks incredible– dark hair fanning over his forehead, bottom lip sucked under his top row of teeth, silver pendant swinging with every thrust.

They become harder, more frantic, fingers dimpling the flesh of Ten’s ass as he tugs him back onto his cock again and again, using his body as he likes.

“Ten, baby. You feel so good,” Johnny moans, hips slapping against his thighs in a steady beat, sending sweet vibrations up Ten’s spine, “ _Fuck_ , I’m not gonna last.”

The mental image alone of Johnny Seo having an orgasm is an unbearable one, but suddenly Ten wants nothing more than to see it with his own eyes.

“Please, please, Johnny. I want to watch– _please_.”

It takes only a few more pointed thrusts before Johnny’s stomach muscles tense. Ten watches him with hooded eyes as he pulls out and rips the condom off just in time to wrap his fingers around the girth, fisting it quickly until his eyes roll back. He spills thick white ropes across Ten’s chest, drenching his nipple piercings.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s still aching between his thighs, unfinished. But before Ten can even think to complain, Johnny ducks down between his legs.

Ten’s back bends when he puts his mouth on him, dragging the flat of his tongue up and down his labia before swirling the tip into his clit. He threads his fingers in Johnny’s hair, tugging hard when three fingers glide inside of him.

He cums much harder the second time, orgasm spreading thick through his body like a fever. It feels like it’s never going to end.

When it’s finally over, Ten collapses against the bed, sweat and cum glistening on his chest. He stares up at Johnny, unable to move, unable to speak.

“Good?” the older asks him, cupping his face and kissing him deeply. Ten can taste himself on his tongue.

“Yeah. So good,” he pants, spent.

Johnny mentions something about cleaning up. He disappears into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, then returns with a wet rag. Ten drifts out of consciousness soon after Johnny starts wiping him down.

-

“You have questions,” Ten says the next morning.

They’re in the shower and Johnny is looking pointedly at his eyes and not what is between his thighs.

“Yeah... but, I mean, it’s not your job to educate me. So… if you want to, you can tell me what you think I need to know?” he suggests.

“There’s a lot to tell. My shit was all the way fucked up. First off, I have an extra X chromosome. My mom said I came out with a little bit of both, so of course the doctor just made the executive decision that I was female and spun my parents a fun story about how I was going to get cancer if I kept my boy parts. So then I had a couple surgeries and they passed me off as a girl. But I always felt…strange about that. They really could've just waited to ask me first, you know? Especially since a couple years later I realized I was a boy.

“It was _so_ obvious to me. Like, I’m sure you noticed what's ...down there, but like, if I'm a girl or whatever, then where are my boobs?” he wonders, hands on his flat chest. "So I don’t know. Because I don’t _feel_ very like, feminine, in my head. I honestly hated being a girl. I've always felt I related more with guys. All my friends are guys, anyway."

Ten is unsure if he’s articulating his thoughts effectively. He feels like he's being awkward and rambling. He always does when it comes to this topic. 

His condition is not really something he focuses on on a daily basis. He’s privileged in that sense; he isn’t made to think about it every waking moment. For all intents and purposes, he passes as traditionally male in a binary, heteronormative society. And the fact that he’s gay has both presented and negated particular challenges. But in his experience, he’s found more cis men than not have validated his body because of the sexual gratification it provides them.

Although it’s a complication Ten has been made to accept at this stage in his life and a conversation he has been forced to have many times with people, partners, friends and even strangers over the years, it never gets easier. It’s exhausting to do the work society refuses to, unpacking emotional and psychological trauma inflicted on him at the hands of doctors that should really have their medical licenses taken away. But Johnny isn’t pressuring him about this. He’s made it clear with his words and actions that his interest is out of respect and not merely curiosity. 

“So I’m all mixed up– my genes, my mind, my body, my gender identity. Literally, it’s a mess. But the good news is, I can’t get pregnant,” Ten forces a laugh, because it’s easier to do that than bring up the serious implications of such a mistake.

“That could be good news,” the older man smiles, passing him the body wash.

“I lived as a girl until I was eleven. By then I obviously had figured out something was wrong. Basically, I didn’t get my period… That was around the time I found out I didn’t _have_ a uterus. And when we moved to the states it was the perfect chance for me to start a new life, make new friends, everything. Sorry, I feel like all this clinical talk is super weird,” Ten lathers himself up.

“It’s not weird,” Johnny frowns, pushing his wet hair back, “Sure, I’m no doctor but, I hear what you’re saying. It makes perfect sense to me how something like that can happen. Gender and all that stuff is really just …a social construct anyway.”

“A lot of people still don’t see it that way, though. And doctors are ignorant about bodies like mine. They just lie to your parents and then cut you up against your will, before you’re even old enough to understand what’s happening. It’s like a whole fucked up thing. I was just lucky they didn’t take away something…important. And also that my parents were supportive.”

“That is a blessing. Do you use any other pronouns?”

“Not really. I mostly feel like he/him and also I just don’t want to make things difficult for other people.”

“Okay.”

What Ten forgets to say is that he’s always had a million mental problems and animosity towards himself and his body–dysphoria, depression, anxiety, disassociation. In truly every sense of the word–despise, detest, abhor–Ten _hates_ himself. He always has, and probably always will. He feels like he doesn’t even exist sometimes, like his soul is just trapped in something twisted, something no one will ever truly legitimize, that modern medicine and society do not generally understand let alone accept. For as long as he can remember, he’s been trying to escape. 

He’s starved himself and self harmed since the age of nine. He’s had suicidal thoughts since he was twelve. He’s made five attempts on his life since he was fifteen. He’s been on and off different medications his entire life. It’s difficult to stay creative and do the things he enjoys when he’s on a concoction of anxiety meds, hormones, antidepressants and antipsychotics. Not to mention his little issue with self medication (aka substance abuse). He still thinks about dying all the time, and even though he told Hendery he wouldn’t try it again, at the moment he has already started breaking promises.

Ten knows a lot of his issues now are a result of things that happened to him when he was younger. He knows he spent two decades trying to cope with who he is, but that most of those efforts made matters much worse.

But Kunhang is the only person who knows about all of that. He’s the one who stuck by him through it all.

Ten feels bad for lying to his roommate. He feels ashamed that he’s allowed himself to fall into the same kind of situation again, but he can’t help who he’s attracted to.

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice though,” Ten scoffs.

“Notice what?” Johnny reaches over him to grab the shampoo.

“My lack of dick.”

“How was I supposed to know?” he huffs, squirting some into his palm, “It’s not like I was looking.”

“Yeah…” Ten squints, “…sure.”

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Johnny chuckles. He puts his hands on Ten’s shoulders and spins him, hands going up to his hair, “I’m … what’s it called… pansexual. I could care less about genitalia.”

Ten smiles to himself. He didn’t think Johnny Seo could get any more perfect, but he’s proven wrong once again.

-

Due to his intersex condition, a lot of men see him as some kind of mythical, otherworldly creature or just the embodiment of a crude fantasy. Ten learned that at a very young age, unfortunately. He still struggles to define his self worth outside of the pleasure he can provide to those men, the special attention they give and have given him for his differences. He is a complex person with complex needs and feelings and struggles. He _knows_ being fetishized is nothing to be proud of. He hopes that it will be different with Johnny.

“You okay?” the man asks when he comes back upstairs with Ten’s bag. He drops it on the mattress. Ten shakes himself out of his thoughts quick enough to flash a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” He pulls the bag onto his lap and unzips it. His hair is still wet and drips cool water down his spine as he rummages through its contents, “What about you?”

Johnny seems caught off guard by the question. He masks it well, as always.

“I’m fine,” he folds his arms.

“Are you sure? You don’t feel guilty that you fucked your favorite student?” Ten teases, giving Johnny a sly smile.

He stands and lets the towel drop to the floor. He dresses quickly, pulling his underwear, then sweatpants up his legs. His shirt is last. He leaves it around his neck and pops his toothbrush into his mouth, then turns on his heel and disappears into the en-suite once again.

“No… Should I?” Johnny follows after him, resting his weight against the doorframe.

Ten squeezes some of his toothpaste out onto the brush, then slips it back into his mouth. He shrugs at Johnny’s reflection.

He spits, “You seemed stressed about it before.”

“I was just trying to be responsible. I taught you for four years. I didn’t want to run the risk of someone else finding out how I feel about you and misunderstanding the whole situation.”

Ten’s heart flutters at his choice of words. He fights the smile, opting for indifferent. “…And how do you feel about me?”

But like in everything else, Johnny doesn’t seem to _care_. He smiles, making sure the younger looks back at him. 

Ten abandons his toothbrush on the counter and turns, taking the necessary steps in Johnny's direction.

“I’m so curious,” he prompts.

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” the man says, straightening his back as he approaches. Ten comes eye level with his chin and has to slant his head up slightly to look at him.

“Oh no,” he plays along, his bottom lip pushing out. He trails a finger down Johnny’s bare chest, eyes following it. He’s so _fit_.

“Good thing I’m not a cat,” he pokes his sternum once for good measure.

Johnny sighs, “What do you want to know?”

“You said you thought about me. Since when?”

“Hm,” he’s quiet, pondering for a moment. His index finger runs over the lobe of Ten’s ear, the three silver hoops there.

“Do you remember when you didn't have any piercings?” his voice is tender with reminiscence, “... and your hair was red?”

_No fucking way._

“Johnny,” Ten inhales, “That was so long ago.”

“I don’t remember what class I had you for.”

“Me neither. But, I think that was sophomore year.”

Ten had been eighteen. He doesn’t remember much about that school year. Aside from the fact that he still lived in the dorm. Kun was the only person he knew from high school attending the same college. Off campus housing wasn’t allowed until junior year and Ten had to suffer the torture of rooming with him for two academic years.

Dorm life was decidedly not for him. He ended up deteriorating–as always–stopped eating, wasn’t sleeping and of course wandered down the same delinquent path he always seemed to. Kun was too busy suffering through music theory courses to notice.

Hendery was still a senior in high school at the time but Ten would call him at 3 am on week nights to complain about how much he hated it and that they _had_ to get a place together as soon as he was old enough.

“Yeah. That sounds about right,” Johnny nods.

“You should’ve _said_ something. Or at least given me a hint,” Ten’s chest hurts, “I would’ve said yes.”

“Nah,” Johnny shakes his head, eyes falling to the floor.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whines, “I've liked you since freshman year.”

“Really?”

Ten hums, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Not at all,” Johnny’s eyebrows raise, “Wow.”

Ten smiles, “Crazy, huh?”

“Insane.”

-

Ten is prepared for the storm at home.

After breakfast, Johnny drives him back and when they reach their destination he leans over, cups Ten’s face and pulls him in for a kiss.

Ten slips out of his car with a quiet goodbye ghosting across his bottom lip. His feet hit the concrete and he misses Johnny already.

Ten tries to mask the sense of satisfaction as he buzzes in and climbs the stairs to their floor. He doesn’t want to appear too smug or too nonchalant, but he knows his roommate is going to be unhappy regardless of what he says or does. Not only did Ten sneak out, but he completely ignored the boy’s texts and calls all last night and today.

He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, strolling in perhaps too casually for what’s ahead. Kunhang is in the kitchen and his eyes land on Ten immediately.

“Hey. I’m back,” he says.

“I see that,” Hendery takes an unbothered tone. The boy turns his back toward him; he never cleans anything but suddenly seems inspired to deal with the dishes in the sink.

“Where from?” he tries his best to sound nonchalant but they both know better.

“I fucked my professor,” Ten answers honestly, because he _honestly_ doesn’t care what his roommate thinks. He doesn’t _care_ whether or not Hendery approves of his taste in men.

“Did you get my messages?” the boy ignores him. Ten frowns.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yeah. Was it supposed to be a joke?”

Ten shrugs. Leon stalks over to where he is, brushing up against his leg.

“It might be funny, I guess… but it’s not a joke,” he answers, picking the cat up as soon as he removes his shoes and deposits his bag onto the couch.

“I’m not laughing, though. So I guess it’s not funny, Kunhang mutters. Ten can barely hear it over the sound of the running water coming from the faucet.

“Henny. Don’t be mad,” he carries Leon into the kitchen, running his hand over his back, following the path of his short, caramel coat.

“You said you wouldn’t,” Hendery finally turns.

“He’s different.”

“You always say that.”

“I know. But he really is this time. And I…” he sighs, unable to look his best friend in the eye, “I think I love him.”

Kunhang doesn’t look at him either.

“You don’t know what love is,” he mutters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONED CHILD RAPE/NON-CON AND UNDERAGE  
> 2\. can't believe i thought this was gonna be done in 3 chapters lmfao  
> 3\. this is roughhh but at least you get wayv doing bong rips and drinking four loko  
> 4\. reminder that flashbacks are italicized  
> 5\. please forgive any mistakes i will edit it more l8r

Ten realized pretty quickly after that night that he wasn't going to be able to stay away from Johnny for long. After only one day he already felt a panging need in his chest that only grew more and more pronounced as the hours lapsed.

In his mind, amidst a tornado of mayhem and confusion, Johnny occupies an insanely large space– a calm, quiet corner where he inflicts a different kind of chaos.

Ten often thinks about how Johnny kissed him, sweet and savoring, and how he touched him, so gentle it was heartbreaking. He thinks about Johnny's soft lips on his neck, his big hands on his waist. He tries to remember the way Johnny looked at him, normally warm, welcoming gaze flaring like molten rock in the darkness of his bedroom, burning into Ten with such intensity he feared he might burst into flames.

After four years, the thought was effortless. But it goes without saying that sleeping with his professor was not something Ten imagined he would _actually_ _do_.

It still gives him chills to think that this whole time, Johnny had wanted him too. He had been so blind– a stray, wandering the streets, too busy picking through heaps of garbage to notice the opulent meal laid out in front of him.

But maybe it was better this way. He and Johnny were not a conventional match: teacher and student. They weren't supposed to wind up in bed together. If things had escalated any sooner than it had, it could've been messy and painful for both of them. And Ten's life was already messy and painful enough.

But against all odds, the warnings and wishes of everyone around him and fears of fucking everything up, Ten plunged in deep. There was absolutely no going back now. He tasted the forbidden fruit. And it was surprisingly sweet.

Ten would have nothing better to do than lay around all day missing him anyways. Now that classes are done, Johnny too has a lot of extra time. So in the two weeks leading up to graduation, there's no reason for Ten _not_ to be with him literally every waking moment.

Loving him becomes a bit of an obsession, really, a growing addiction. _Nothing_ on Earthis more satisfying than being with someone after _years_ of quiet pining.

And lucky for Ten, the feeling is mutual.

"Johnny, Johnny," he sings his teacher's name, still not used to how it feels to just hear it spilling past his lips.

"Why me?"

Johnny's bedroom is big and has many windows. The afternoon sun enters from the widest one on the opposite side of the room, peeking past the curtains to paint them in ethereal gold.

"What do you mean?" the older man's fingers stroke through his hair, rough and damaged from so many impulsive color changes.

"I can't be the only student that showed interest in you," Ten thinks out loud, index finger tracing lazily over his hip bone, "You're hot."

Johnny chuckles, "Hmm. I'm honestly still trying to figure that out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Obviously I find you ...attractive, but I think it was your personality that struck me the most," he says, "Also, you make me laugh, which is essential."

Ten's hides his smile against the man's chest. Although he normally can't take a compliment to save his life, Johnny's words elicit a revitalizing sense of pride in him.

"What about you?" he wonders.

"Why do I _like_ you? That's gonna take me like hours to answer," the younger groans, stretching his arms out above him.

"I have time," Johnny insists.

"Ugh, I don't know, man," Ten does in fact know– _b ecause, you’re funny and kind and beautiful, inside and out. You were always nice to me. When I felt invisible, you always paid attention to me. I like talking to you. I like being around you and learning new things from you. You helped me figure out my strengths and weaknesses. If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t have even studied communications in the first place_–but he can't really say those things _out_ _loud_. "What's not to like? I mean, you're probably the coolest professor I ever had."

"Let me stop you right there. Please don't ever remind me that I was your professor," the grimace is clear in his voice.

"Why not? It's kind of funny honestly. It's a shame you never fucked me over your desk like in those cheesy pornos."

"Jesus, Ten," Johnny curses.

"What?" Ten lifts his head, craning his neck slightly to look at him, "Don't act like you never thought about it."

"I didn't!" he laughs, a baffled look on his face.

"Yeah right," his eyes narrow. Either Johnny is holier than thou or he's lying through his teeth.

" _Anyways_ ," the man forces, "I'm just curious as to why you like me and not... maybe, someone younger?"

"Ah... " he hesitates. "To be honest, I've always liked older guys. I never really felt like our ages made us too different or anything."

"Mm. Do you ever seriously think about it, though?" Johnny's hand slides down the back of his neck.

"About what?" Ten lays back down on his chest. He'll never get tired of being this close to him, losing himself in his bear-like embrace. He's warm and soft and smells like a sweet forest.

"The fact that I was in graduate school when you were born."

Perhaps it's shocking to other people, but it really doesn't matter to Ten. Those other people don't _know_ Johnny. They don't know how cool and smart and sensitive he is to the things that really matter. Nothing about his age makes Ten turn up his nose and think _okay, boomer_.

If anything, it makes Johnny _more_ attractive. There's a subtle elegance about him, an unyielding maturity in the way he speaks and carries himself. He is calm, carefree and confident. He never seems anxious about anything at all.

That, and how he wakes up every morning at seven despite how late he stayed up the night before, how he drinks his coffee black, the fact that he has a mortgage, his home office that has all of his awards and recognitions on the walls - most notably a Pulitzer from a story he worked on with a couple other colleagues in 2005 (Ten had been seven!), and the subtle streak of salt and pepper that clings to his hair just above his ears. The only thing Ten could go without are the dad jokes, but even those are sometimes endearing.

Maybe they are in very different places in their lives, with Johnny having lived much of his whereas Ten is just on the brink of it. But he has never felt patronized for not having the experience he has.

The younger shrugs, "Nah, I don't care. Do you?"

"Eh... a little," Johnny admits, "It makes the older person look like a cradle robber."

"Yikes. What a horrible term."

"I know. Imagine being me."

"Oh God, I wish," Ten moans. He turns his head, burying his face between Johnny's pectorals, "If I was you, I could do _anything_. Probably like, stop a train with my bare hands."

"Psh, totally. And fly too."

Ten smiles, trailing his fingers up Johnny's bicep. _This is nice,_ he thinks. It's been a long time since he has felt like this – like the universe is working in his favor. He tries not to think too much about it, though, because that will be the moment everything falls apart.

_This feels good. Can't that be enough?_

Ten closes his eyes.

He rolls himself the rest of the way on top of Johnny, aligning whatever parts of them weren't already. Ten draws his legs up and straddles him, shirt tail draping over his hips.

Long black hair falls over his eyes as he stares down at the man's body. His hands smooth up Johnny's belly, feeling his toned abdominal muscles, his hard chest. The fact that he works out in his free time definitely shows. Ten always thought he was beautiful, but just how beautiful makes his mouth go dry.

"You know," Johnny clears his throat. Ten meets his gaze. "It's not polite to stare."

"Well," he sits back, shrugs, "I could care less about being polite."

_What is this feeling? What is it that makes his chest ache and his stomach dip like he's on a rollercoaster? This is so new to Ten, but it also feels achingly familiar somehow, like he's been here before._

"Hmm," the elder smirks. His hands cup his thighs, rubbing them slowly, teasingly.

Ten fits his thumb between his teeth, bearing down on it gently as they sneak up his shirt.

"I guess somebody ought to teach you some manners, then." 

There's nothing hotter than a man who doesn't know his own strength. He grips Ten's waist under the shirt and flips him with a force that knocks the air out of his lungs. Suddenly, Ten is on his back on Johnny's bed, lips slightly parted in shock as he stares up at the elder. 

And... Ten won't speak on the matter, because a part of him feels like it would be a crime to even whisper this to another soul, but sleeping with Johnny Seo has been the experience of his life.

It's Tuesday. Graduation is on Saturday. That means in total, Ten has spent at least five days with Johnny. The fact alone is a testament to how impossible he is to satisfy. Because in less than a week, the older man has already picked up on what Ten likes, how he wants to be treated.

He likes to take his time, to tease Ten with his words and his gaze, to work him up with gentle kisses, and barely-there touches that have his mind running wild until he's panting and sweating and aching between his thighs. And then when he finally gives, he's generous. He's more than generous. He's eager to _please_. He gives Ten _everything_ and doesn't hold back.

One of the benefits to this gross fetish of liking men twice his age is that the older a man is, the more partners he’s likely had. So, to put it plainly, older men fuck better.

And Johnny Seo is no exception. 

Ten's nails dig into Johnny's hip when he dips down, attaching his lips to his neck. Johnny's hair tickles his face as he drags them up toward his ear. He licks underneath it, wetting the sensitive skin there before taking it into his mouth. Ten chases the feeling, a well known warmth blooming behind his navel.

Johnny's teeth scrape along the side of Ten's throat and he arches up into him. Strong hands push into Ten's back, drawing him closer. Their chests stitch together, bodies aligning. Johnny grinds down against him, inhaling sharply at the friction it provides. Ten feels him half hard through his boxers and this time he can't stop the embarrassingly needy sound from escaping. 

Johnny bites his neck again and Ten can't take it anymore. He is so hot already, it's honestly embarrassing. Frantic hands ascend to the front of his shirt in a haste to remove it. But Johnny puts distance between them. His fingers entrap Ten's wrists, gently pushing his hands away.

Ten is impatient and horny and Johnny finds it amusing, judging by the smirk in the corner of his mouth. He presses a sympathy kiss to Ten's cheek, then he takes over, holding the younger's needy gaze as the buttons come undone.

They work quickly with familiarity, seeing as it's his own shirt. Fresh out of the shower, this morning Ten had found it lying folded over the arm of the chaise in the corner of the room. He naturally took it upon himself to put it on because it smelled heavenly, like Johnny, like his detergent, his aftershave, like fire roasted coffee and the pinewood cologne that he loves so much. He isn't wearing anything else underneath.

He breathes in relief as Johnny takes the sleeves down his arms, baring him. He tosses it and Ten doesn't spare a glance as to where it lands.

His heart races, a blush creeping up his chest as Johnny's eyes start to descend. Ten is not particularly shy with him anymore, but there is an element anxiety whenever his body is involved. It's intense when combined with the way Johnny is looking at him. It makes Ten feel like he's in the jaws of a predacious animal– helpless and weak, like he ought to do whatever it takes to survive. 

Ten clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Hey," he calls, and the elder's head snaps up to catch his gaze. "I thought it wasn't polite to stare?" He can't help the way his shoulders curve inward, legs pressing together on their own.

Johnny raises his eyebrow at him. "But weren't you just dying to get naked just a minute ago?"

Ten shrugs. He pulls on one of the rings in his bottom lip, peering up with faux demure.

"Don't be shy now," Johnny slides his hand down between his thighs, forcing them apart. All the blood in Ten's body rushes south.

"Oh," he whispers, voice small, "Yes, Daddy,"

" _Jesus_ ," Johnny visibly shudders at that, "I never thought you would be like this."

"Like what?"

Johnny lifts Ten's leg, fingers pressing into the back of his knee. His lips tickle over the top of it, then the inside of it.

"A slut," he says, simply. That heat swells and _throbs_. Ten wants to respond, or to deny it, but he can't.

"What do you want?" the man asks, rubbing up his inner thigh now, soft skin caving beneath the firm press of his fingers.

Ten gnaws his bottom lip. They are so close to where he needs them, where he is growing more and more desperate by the minute.

"Your dick," he writhes, impatient. He _aches_.

"Mhm. You think you deserve it?" Johnny keeps his expression blank. Ten wishes he could read him.

"...No," he answers honestly, "But ...give it to me anyway."

Johnny hums, pensive. "I feel like you're missing something, there,"

"...your dick," Ten huffs, "Obviously."

But Johnny remains stone still, giving him the same empty look. Ten closes his eyes.

"...please?"

"Better," the man tilts his head. Big palms slide down to cup the backs of his thighs, squeezing the flesh gently.

"I thought you don't like it when I beg."

Johnny bends Ten's legs upward slowly so his knees are pressed to his chest. The younger slides one arm underneath, holding them there and out of the way.

"It's simple, really," Johnny smirks, "I lied."

His fingers dip into his boxers and free his cock. Ten can't help but stare at it. The length, the size, the way it blushes toward the thick, pink head at the top and curves from the bottom— it's a mouth watering sight, one that makes his core tight with anticipation.

Johnny circles his thumb and forefinger around the crown, giving it a few dry tugs before bringing it between Ten's legs. He inhales sharply when he feels him guiding it through his warm, pink folds, collecting the wetness. He spreads it down the shaft and jerks it slowly.

Ten stares at Johnny as he touches himself, as the sensations wash over his face. It's intoxicating to know that _he_ can make his teacher look like this. He's not even inside yet, but Ten thinks–with the way his mouth tightens, brows pinching together, eyes struggling to stay open–this won't take long.

He does it again and Ten moans when the blunt head glides across his labia, nudging against his swollen clit. His entire body alights with another wave of arousal, more sweet slick pouring out.

It must be enough to spur Johnny on because with no further preamble, he enters Ten bare, forcing his walls apart on his length. His body welcomes the intrusion, instantly opening up around it. Johnny's fucked him several times over the last few days and his body has gotten used to it, but Ten doesn't think he ever will.

"Mmm. _Johnny_ ," he whimpers, overwhelmed by his size. He can feel it in his stomach.

"Alright?" the older checks.

"Yeah. So _big_. It feels good."

Johnny pulls out before thrusting back in. They both gasp.

" _Jesus_. You're always ready for me, huh? So loose and wet inside," he groans, doing it a few more times until he finds a rhythm. "Love your pussy, baby. Gonna make me cum so fast."

" _Yess_ , Johnny. Do it in me. I wanna feel it," Ten croons, nails biting into his thighs.

When the pace is set it doesn't take long for Ten's brain to short circuit. He _is_ wet and Johnny's cock slips through him easily, pressing so _deep_ it's insane, rubbing up and down his walls. He lets his eyes shut, lips part and just focuses on that steady motion, allowing it to bathe him in euphoria.

Ten can't help but think, with the last dregs of his consciousness, that sex isn't supposed to feel this good. Because then people would do it all the time. They wouldn't have jobs or eat or sleep. He wishes he was exaggerating; he doesn't know what it means that Johnny makes him feel this way, that he has so much power over him. It's a bit terrifying.

It's like, whenever Johnny touches him, instead of giving him a fix, he deepens the hunger, makes it worse. He ignites a devastation across his flesh that sinks deep into his pores, down to his muscle and bone, that flares and decays like a firestorm and now, Ten has become _insatiable_. He's hooked on Johnny's presence, his attention, his _dick_ – as if they were some lethal concoction of sedatives. He's like opium, that gets Ten higher than he's ever been.

He supposes it's because they waited years for this. Ten waited _years_ to feel what he feels right now, the intense pressure Johnny puts between his hips that grows and grows. He finds himself lost in the throes of pleasure that just keep sweeping in faster than he can comprehend them.

"Fuck, I'm right there, babe," Johnny takes Ten harder, faster, holding his waist so tight he thinks he'll leave finger shaped bruises. He wants him to–Ten wants to be able to press down on them later, to remember how it felt.

"I need to cum. Johnny _,_ make me cum–," Ten begs, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. It's not going to take much anyway.

"I got you," Johnny says, still somehow so composed enough to tease, "Daddy's gonna make you cum."

Then he switches the pace up on Ten, going from long strokes to short, quick ones. The younger doesn't have the strength to stutter out a warning before his orgasm takes him, walls clenching, liquid heat pouring over Johnny's cock.

The elder keeps fucking him through the friction and it's not much longer until he reaches his own climax. He burrows deep in Ten's body, rolling his hips a few shallow times before he starts to tense.

And the sensation of Johnny coming inside of him, pumping him full of his hot release – Johnny _using_ and claiming him and staining him like this – feels so good. Ten gets a surreal amount of gratification helping Johnny find his own.

He rolls his hips forward a few times, a filthy wet sound filling the air when he finally pulls out. Ten sighs at the loss, wishing he could just keep Johnny inside forever.

"How are you even real?" the older pants, brushing messy tangles of hair from his forehead.

Ten rests his hand on the back of Johnny's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

"I'm not. None of this is," he mumbles against him.

"It's a dream? A lucid dream? But I could've sworn I woke up this morning."

"...Maybe," Ten hums, pensive, "You should pinch me,"

"If you say so," Johnny pinches his nipple hard.

" _Ohh fuck,_ " he gasps, clutching his chest.

The elder giggles like he does, with not a care in the world. _Beautiful_.

-

_"We know what you've been doing. We read your messages. This behavior, it's ... disturbing."_

_"It's disgusting," his father muttered,_ " _We didn't raise you like this. We've given you everything. Why do you have to ruin our family?"_

_"I'm sorry me and my disgusting behavior ruined your perfect fucking family."_

_"Who is this man anyway? How old is he?" his father pointed at the phone screen, eyes shaking._

_"Don't worry, not older than you."_

_"Do you think this is funny?"_

_"A little."_

_"This is a grown man. And what, you're sending him these kinds of messages, and ...pictures of yourself? You can't do that. You're a minor."_

_"So what? Age is just a number anyway. And if the cops find out what we did, he'll be the one in jail, not me."_

_"...What? W-what does that mean? What did you ...?"_

_"Did ... did you have sex with him?" his father winced._

_"...Maybe," he spat._

_"My God, Ten," his mother sobbed._

_"I don't understand," his father shook his head, "Why? Are you trying to punish us?"_

_"Of course, because everything is about you."_

_"You know, you really ought to be more careful. You put yourself in these types of situations... it's almost like you want something bad to happen again."_

_"Are you joking? 'Something bad,'" Ten scoffed, "Just say it, dad. I was raped."_

_"Here we go," the man huffed._

_"Mom," he complained, looking to her for some kind of support._

_She just sighed, "Do you always have to bring that up?"_

_"So I really can't even say it?"_

_"What for? So you can try to excuse all of this? Or make us feel bad so we'll leave you alone?"_

_"It's not my fault it makes you feel like a shit parent. It happened. You can't just act like it didn't."_

_"We don't act like it didn't happen."_

_"This is bullshit," Ten felt defeated, "We never even talked about it! You guys totally ignored it!"_

_"That's not true, Ten. We just... we didn't know how. You were so young..."_

_"I was thirteen. I wasn't a little kid. But you let me go through that all alone. What did you think would happen?"_

_"That ...was not our fault. It wasn't yours either–,"_

_"Then whose is it? It has to be someone's. Who was it that took me there in the first place?"_

_"That's not fair."_

_"We took you because you wanted to go. You used to love dance. You said it was your dream," his father tried._

_"Well because of you guys, I don't have a dream anymore. I don't have anything," he scoffed, "This is what I am now. I hope you're happy."_

_His mother slapped him._

_-_

Ten suddenly wakes. It takes him a long moment to process his surroundings, to realize he's not in his own bed. This one is much better– bigger, more plush, with sheets that are silky soft and cool against his tense, overheated skin, and not to mention the brawny, shirtless man laying on the other side of it.

He glances over Johnny's sleeping form to the digital clock on the nightstand. 3 am.

He needs a cigarette.

Ten slips out of bed as carefully as possible, as not to wake Johnny. He goes to the small bag of his belongings in the chaise on the other side of the room. He unzips it and pulls out the hoodie he messily stuffed in there when he saw rain on the forecast. Not like he's been outside (or honestly anywhere but Johnny's bedroom) to know if he needs it.

Nevertheless, he tugs it on over his head, stuffs his lighter and the pack of cigarettes into the front and then turns on his heel. The door creaks open quietly and he strides past it into the hallway. It's dark, but he's quite familiar with Johnny's house now.

He pads softly down the stairs, undoes the lock and deadbolt on the front door and walks out onto the porch. He pulls the door shut behind him, then sits on the first step.

What a nightmare.

He shivers as a gust of wind blows through, putting out the flame. He clicks the lighter again, cupping his hand and bringing it up to the end of the cigarette.

He really can't escape, huh? Even his haven with Johnny has to be tarnished by his own toxic memories.

As if he doesn't feel shitty enough about everything already. As if he needed anymore reminders of what a terrible person he was and still is. As if he needed a reminder that he will have to face his parents in less than a week.

The sky is like a spectral painting, with the full moon peering past the grey, broken clouds, stretched too thinly by the chilly draft overhead. The humidity is cloying and the night owl's moan is ominous. It's all very fitting to the feeling in his gut.

"What are you doing?"

A shadow looms in the doorway behind him, Ten turns slightly to see it's owner: eyes puffy, hair sticking up in all directions. Johnny's in his boxers, but he must have stopped by the dresser and pulled on a shirt on his way down here. What a shame.

"Giving myself lung cancer, obviously," Ten rubs his eyes as if it will help him see any better in the dark. Although he's glad the man doesn't flick on the porch light.

Johnny snorts, "I meant, why are you awake?"

"'Couldn't sleep," he lies, "Did I wake you?"

The man steps outside. He pulls the door behind him, then approaches slowly. Johnny sits on the same step beside him, crossing his arms over his knees.

"I just noticed you were gone," he flashes a sleepy smile.

Ten hates how handsome Johnny looks right now in a scene like this, the early morning moonlight illuminating the sharp contours of his face. He looks ethereal, like a mere figment of Ten's imagination.

"What are you thinking about?"

Suddenly Ten can't hear his thoughts over the sounds of night creatures in the distance. 

"A lot," he says anyway.

"Like...?"

"Like, did you know, my parents bought me a car for my seventeenth birthday?"

"Wow," Johnny breathes, "How nice."

"I wrecked it like, a week later," he laughs. He pointedly omits the fact that he'd been drunk when it happened.

"... oh."

"It was totaled. They were pissed."

"Understandable."

"I should've been more careful."

"Accidents happen. We all make mistakes. Especially when we are young."

"But how many mistakes, do you think, is a person allowed to make before other people like, start to _expect_ them to fuck up?"

"I don't know. I guess it depends on those people. And love."

"Love?" Ten frowns.

"Love, in the sense that, you care about a person so much you are able to see through their flaws to the good parts underneath."

Is that what love is? If so, Ten doesn't understand one goddamn thing about it. That kind of love is something he's always wanted to believe he understood, yet he still struggles to even acknowledge its existence. To even admit it to himself or voice it aloud.

Maybe Hendery was right.

_You don't know what love is._

Ten thinks it would be so easy to love someone like Johnny–like breathing. He's successful. He's handsome. He's cynical and cool, kind and smart, funny and tall. Ten wants to love him. Ten wants to be loved _by_ him. But he can acknowledge that he is not worthy to love Johnny, let alone to receive Johnny's love.

Ten doesn't know if _anyone_ could ever truly love him. At least, not in the way that Johnny defines love.

Ten struggles to believe that even his own family and friends love him, that he's not just a chore or a problem that they've all been forced to deal with. He's caused them so much pain over the years, and if the roles were reversed, he doesn't know if he could endure the same.

"I don't know," his cheeks hollow out as he takes another drag, eyes distant, "I think after a while, not even that is enough."

Because after a while, other people start to get tired of your bullshit. They start to notice a pattern. Even after the worst of the storm has passed, they don't appreciate the sweet flowers that bloom. They only remember the seeds of bitterness, of anger, shame and resentment.

Johnny hums in understanding, resting his hand on the back of his head. He pets his hair gently. Ten allows the contact to soothe him for a moment, eyes fluttering shut.

"Maybe you'll be surprised?"

Ten looks down, "Maybe."

-

"Ten, can you _please_ come sweep this cat litter off the floor!"

The older is laying on his back on the couch holding his phone between his hands. He's texting Johnny, and the older is actually responding quickly for once, so his whiny roommate will just have to wait. 

"I feel like I asked you to do this yesterday..." Hendery is nagging like a housewife, the annoyance clear in his voice as he walks into the living room, hands on his hips.

"I wasn't here yesterday," he mumbles. Ten was definitely at Johnny's house getting fucked within an inch of his life.

"I asked you before you left, remember?"

"Uh-huh," Ten isn't listening.

"Whatever, just get it, please... preferably _before_ Xuxi comes. It's gross and I'm tired of stepping in it."

But then the doorbell rings. _Too late,_ Ten smirks to himself. Hendery curses.

"Hey," he opens the door, welcoming Xuxi inside, "Sorry about the mess. I've been trying to get Ten off his ass literally all day."

"Fuck you," Ten huffs, then in a sweet voice, "Hi, Sushi."

"Hey, babe. What mess?" the boy scoffs, toeing off his white sneakers, "You do remember who I live with, right?"

"Yeah, _Hendery_. Just be glad you live with me and not DJ and Yangyang,"

"That's not the point," Hendery mutters. He seems like he wants to say something more, but then his phone dings, "Pizza's here. I'll be back."

The door closes behind him and Xuxi comes over where Ten is.

"Thank God Hendery left. I can tell you all about this guy I've been fucking."

" _Oooo_!" Big hands slide under his ankles. Xuxi lifts his legs just enough to slip underneath them, seating himself on the couch.

"What's he like?" he pulls Ten's legs back down onto his lap.

"He's nice. He's..." Ten grimaces, trying to figure out how to break the news to his friend, "... my professor."

The boy looks at him for a moment, almost as if he is waiting for the punchline.

"No way," Xuxi gawks, eyes growing even bigger, so big they seem like they're about to pop out of his head, "Oh my God!"

"Ughh, I know," the elder covers his face with his hand.

"Ten!" the younger squeals, lightly slapping his knee, "You can't _do_ that!"

"Too late. He's _forty-three_. He's surprisingly really cool and modern, though. He used to be a journalist. He's so fucking hot. He's got a body like Adonis. And his dick is _huge_ ," Ten moans just thinking about it. Talking about Johnny is his favorite thing to do when he's not actually with him.

"Shit..." Xuxi rubs his chin, "Now I want to fuck him too."

Ten grabs the throw pillow off the floor and hits him with it. The younger boy just laughs.

He loves Xuxi because he doesn't judge him when he talks about older guys. Xuxi is one of his only friends who doesn't care about age differences. He's also not easily shocked. He's allegedly straight, but Ten thinks he jokes too freely about getting fucked and sucking dick to not be a little bisexual.

"Is it weird, though? To be fucking your teacher?"

"It was for like, a hot second, but we got over it. I've honestly been fantasizing about him since freshman year."

"You wanted him to bend you over the desk? Or fuck you against the chalkboard?"

"Ugh, _both_. He told me he didn't even think about doing that. I was _so_ pissed."

"It's okay. Y'all can just sneak into the school on Saturday and role play. There's gotta be at least one classroom unlocked. Then you can be all, 'Oh, professor, is there _anything_ I can do to change my grade?'"

"Dude," Ten laughs, "We _can't_. My parents are coming to the ceremony."

"Oh damn."

"Yeah. It's gonna be awkward as hell seeing him there. Like, in the same room as my family," Ten shares, "And like, Hendery..."

"You should introduce them," Xuxi teases, laughing before he can even finish.

"Shut _up_ ," Ten whines, "Hendery would try to fight him."

"That would be so funny. We could all jump in," Xuxi raises his eyebrow.

"Xuxi... you're nuts," Ten can't stop laughing. His stomach and sides hurt.

"Speaking of Hendery," Xuxi finally calms down, "You guys good?"

Ten is sure all their friends think their relationship is abusive and manipulative, and perhaps they're right to some extent.

"Yeah. Why?" Ten looks over his phone.

"I dunno. He seemed... off just now."

Ten waves his hand. "He's just jealous because he's single and I'm getting the best dick of my life."

"Oh, right," Xuxi nods easily, but Ten can see a glint of something else in his eyes.

He doesn't get to find out what it's about because then the door opens. Hendery comes back in with the food and their conversation ends.

-

The graduation rehearsal is on Friday. Kun picks him up in a shiny red foreign convertible, which he shares is a graduation present from his birth father (who is otherwise extremely absent from his life; too busy running his company overseas). The car is cool, but Kun doesn't seem very impressed. They don't talk about it, but Ten knows he's probably bummed his father will not actually be coming to see him walk.

Ten tries to at least be grateful his parents care enough to show up to his graduation. But he's a professional at being Kun's friend, so he knows to control the conversation and avoid steering it into personal territory.

They mostly just reminisce about college and when they used to be roommates. But the only thing Ten is really concerned about is what they will be doing tomorrow _evening_. Perhaps he's still a bit of a shallow person and getting fucked up is the only thing that matters to him. But it's been a long ass semester and a long four fucking years. They deserve to celebrate.

That, and Ten has been sober for eons. If it goes on any longer he's going to start buying over the counter cough medicine like he's fifteen again. Kun assures him he has a couple parties in mind after they pregame at Xuxi's. They can't barhop because Yangyang doesn't have a fake. Which sucks, but he's a good kid. Not like Hendery, DJ and Xuxi. Ten will have to leave his faith with Kun– which is not a sentence he thought he would ever say.

-

Ten wakes up earlier than he has in weeks, no, _months_ to prepare for the ceremony. He absolutely hates events like this, that require him to get up at such an ungodly hour on a Saturday, to shower and dress nice and show up somewhere at a certain time. Everything about it is horrible.

To make matters worse, his family is coming to his graduation. It sounds like a supportive sentiment, but that is something someone who doesn't know his family would assume. Ten tries to shelve his anxiety as he gets ready. He and his parents don't have the best relationship.

Of course they had unrealistic expectations for him, but considering how shitty he ended up being, there's also outright disappointment. It shows in almost every interaction they have. Ten's life has changed a lot since he lived at home, but he doubts his parents will notice. He has even less hope that _they_ will be different.

But he tries not to be pessimistic. He's only graduating from college once, after all. Hopefully at least for today they will be able to put aside the hard feelings. Ten will try his best to do so on his end.

He and Kun have to be there at 9:30 in the morning, so they go together and Xuxi is bringing the rest of their friend group later around noon. Again, it seems like a sweet gesture but it's really because they want to tag along when Kun's parents take him out to eat after because they let them order whatever they want and always get the bill. Whether his friends are vultures or opportunists is up for debate.

There's the standard ho-hum of procedures. The actual ceremony doesn't start until eleven so there's plenty of time to piss and smoke through half a pack of cigarettes to calm his nerves. Then they're called to process to their seats and another fifteen minutes later the damn thing finally starts. Ten tries his best not to laugh out loud when he sees the man he's been fucking for damn near week now in academic regalia.

It's unlikely, because Johnny hates the fact that they're connected through this institution, but Ten _really_ wants him to look over in his direction. Maybe not to relay any sort of meaningful message, but to give him some mental stimulation at least. But Ten doesn't even get the satisfaction of that. Johnny is hardly eye candy sitting right below the stage, which is so damn far away from where they're seated on the opposite side of the gymnasium.

So Ten quickly realizes he's not going to have any entertainment for at least two hours other than the pomp and circumstance trap remix Kun insisted on blasting on repeat in his fancy car's speakers this morning, which is now stuck in his head. He wishes he had asked Kun to stop by the liquor store beforehand. All of this would be way more fun if he was drunk. Then he could actually talk to the strangers he was sitting next to.

He's actually kind of jealous of Hendery and them because he knows they're going to smoke like five bowls on the way here and probably at least two more in the car before coming inside.

He plays a silly game on his phone while he waits though speeches from the school president and vice president and class president and valedictorian. And then when they finally start calling names, organized by department, Ten is somewhat relieved he studied communications and not music, like Kun. But either way it sucks.

Hendery texts him when they finally come in and Ten begs them not to go sit by his parents when he says he sees them. Ten is already feeling a cloying sense of dread at the thought of facing them afterwards, but each time the urge to panic resurfaces it just gets pushed right back down.

He instead focuses that energy on his posture as he approaches the stage with the others, then as he climbs the three steps onto it. He gets an intrusive mental image of tipping over his robe and falling flat on his face when his name is called, but he manages to cross the stage without crisis. The president hands him his "degree" and firmly shakes his hand before he walks to the end of the stage and snaps a picture that he definitely didn't pay for.

-

The ceremony drones on until half past one and by then everyone is tired and irritable and hungry. Ten included, but right now his parents are the biggest fish to fry. Kun finds his mother and stepfather rather quickly and drags them along and introduces them. It honestly throws Ten off. His parents are literally nothing like Kun's.

And after that, Ten tells them it's okay, to go on ahead to lunch without him because, to be honest, he would rather not have to deal with his friends when he meets up with his own family. Hendery seems conflicted about leaving him alone with them, but eventually folds. He and DJ and Yangyang and Xuxi disappear with Kun and his family with the assurance that Ten will see them later tonight.

His sister texts him asking about his whereabouts and Ten wades through the crowds of people, families, students and faculty in order to find them.

Ten hasn't allowed himself to really think about what he came here to do today. But now in this moment alone, he feels pretty good. He just graduated from University. Shouldn't a person be glad about that?

It's a significant stride, considering how shitty his life has been until now, how difficult it was some days to just get out of bed and all the effort and work he had to put in for four long years just to prove to himself and everyone else that it was possible.

Just to prove to his them that he wasn't a _complete_ fuck up.

They're standing in the parking lot behind the gym. He takes a deep breath and tries to mask the sense of dread when he sees them. Optimism is not Ten's friend, but he drapes himself in it's warm, fuzzy deception as he approaches. And he doesn't get one word out before–

"My God. What have you done to your face?" is the first thing that oozes out of his father's gaping mouth. The man grimaces, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at the metal rings in his bottom lip.

Ten sighs, "Nice to see you too, dad."

"So I see you're still stabbing yourself with needles. When does it end?"

"Well, I'm planning to get way more. What do you think about eyebrow piercings? I want one on each side. You know, for symmetry."

"So much for graduating, then. It's not like you'll get a job with all that metal in your face—"

His mother gives her husband a stern look. He clears his throat.

"Congratulations," his sister forces a smile.

"...yeah. Thanks."

And Ten should be jaded by now. He should've known this would happen. In fact, he _knew_ this would happen, because it _always_ happens. If it's not outright shame or a blatant reminder of something from his horrible childhood, it's a jeer about his appearance.

But at the heart of it all, Ten knows he feels so sensitive right now because the only reason he even went to college was for them. He could care less about an education, a degree, a job, or a career. He honestly didn't give a fuck about anything, let alone school.

However, a part of him did have an inkling of hope that if his grades were good then maybe it would make up for the fact that he was fundamentally bad. Ten had been such a rotten, spoiled child and so he tried to appease his parents, to please them and, in a way, apologize for everything he put them through over the years. He felt like it was the only thing he _could_ do.

But he wonders then, why the fuck did he slave away for four long years if they still won't even acknowledge his efforts? Why is he still trying to gain their approval when there's no fucking point. There never was and never will be.

So now, it's just awkward. He can already feel himself shifting into panic mode, all the blood rushing to his head in frustration. Ten honestly feels like crying. He won't in front of his mother, but it is really discouraging that his father can't even be supportive on a day like today.

But then there's a clearing of the throat behind him. The scent of pine in a misty forest fills his nostrils and overtakes his mind. Ten exhales all of his woes when Professor Seo steps in beside him, a stupidly sweet smile on his stupidly handsome face. He's still clad in regalia but Ten thinks that robes and tassels might just be the next big thing in fashion if someone can look this good in them.

"Excuse me– are you Ten's parents? Hello, I'm his professor, John Seo. It's so good to meet you! I've taught Ten since he was a freshman and he's been such an excellent student. Very talented. And his senior project really blew me and my entire class away. You must be so proud!"

Ten promised himself he wouldn't cry but he can't deny how much he wants to when he looks over and sees the pure light in his teacher's eyes. Johnny means every word.

And it's especially touching because despite how difficult it probably is for the man, to be Ten's mentor and lover simultaneously, Johnny still had the heart to congratulate him, and do it in front of his family. Maybe he's crazier than Ten thought.

His parents are totally caught off guard. They fumble to respond, God forbid, to _agree_ , but then again, Johnny basically backs them into a corner. And Ten can't deny how satisfying it is to hear his mother say, "Yes, we _are_."

They chat formally with him for a bit before he smoothly excuses himself, patting Ten's shoulder gently before disappearing into the crowd. And, yeah...

Johnny is like an angel, vanishing almost as quickly as he came. He is _Ten's_ guardian angel. The younger is starting to believe it more and more every day.

After that, his father seems to remember how to act and the rest of the meeting transpires without crisis.

-

Huang Xuxi... is many things. _For one, an alcoholic_ , Ten thinks as he watches him drink whiskey straight from the bottle. His smiles are genuine and his laughs are loud, as if woes are obsolete. He's carefree, like Johnny, which Ten likes, but too often careless.

His apartment echoes that chaos and Ten wishes he could describe it, but there's only so much to be said about a messy living space. However, the ambiance is equally telling. The kitchen is free from colors or thoughtful decoration, but heavied with liquor bottles– hard stuff, tequila, vodka, rum, minimum 40 proof. The gall he has, considering he and his roommates are all under twenty-one. If Ten thought he and Hendery were bad for having one couch, he feels better when he remembers that Xuxi _has_ no couch, living room filled with colorful bean bags and a vibrant mandala rug between them. Not to mention the tapestry pinned to the adjacent wall. _Pothead_ , Ten adds to the list.

Ten doesn't know how he can't afford one when he's probably making six figures on onlyfans. The only traditional piece of furniture in Ten's line of sight is the glass cabinet against the back wall that acts more like a display case for his bongs. Ten remembers when he got it, fearful that he and DJ's new puppy would knock them down to a shatter one by one. It's only been a year, but Bella has already gotten so big, Ten is sure she could knock the whole damn case over if she really wanted to.

Ten hasn't had much to drink – just a beer and something sweet from the red cup Hendery handed him not long after they first arrived. Since then, they did a few tequila shots and played a drinking game that Ten decidedly sat out on, but Hendery and Xuxi share one brain cell and it's never too long before one of them asks about smoking.

So now they're all in the living room and Yangyang is clinging to Ten, tugging at his arm and trying to get him to look at more dumb memes on his phone, but he has his sights set on the bong tilted towards Xuxi's lap, lighter poised against the corner of the bowl and wondering when it'll get passed in his direction. He clears the chamber in one go, as expected, exhaling smoothly. Ten can admit it's kinda hot.

Dejun gets it next, but he only smokes on occasion, even less from a bong, so he doesn't inhale right. He still ends up coughing and Hendery makes fun of him for the next fifteen minutes. Kun is annoying the shit out of Ten – he won't even let one song finish before he plays a new one. But it's undoubtedly better than the bizarre, German noise rap Yangyang forced them to listen to earlier when absolutely no one was drunk enough.

Bella walks over DJ's lap right in the middle of his second attempt, spindly tail flapping back and forth and nearly smacking Ten across the face. While the younger is trying to shoo her away, Ten relinquishes him of the bong, fitting his lips in the mouthpiece and catching the remaining vapor before it goes to waste.

When it's through, he lights it again, pulls the smoke to the top of the chamber, then takes out the bowl and draws as much as he can into his lungs. He rests his palm on the top when he's at his limit, and when he looks up, Hendery is already staring back at him. He exhales and when the smoke clears the younger has already averted his gaze. Ten tries not to let it bother him as he clears the rest, then hands the bong and lighter off to Yangyang.

"Guys can we go now?" Kun complains a while later. Xuxi already has the grinder in hand; he and Hendery are obviously trying to pack another bowl. But by then, Ten and Yangyang are pleasantly cross-faded and falling all over each other with tears in their eyes, even though Dejun's comment about Bella doing bong rips with them is not that funny.

"It's almost nine-thirty. I just chugged like two beers and if we wait any longer I'm gonna have to break the seal," the eldest continues, so with gripes and groans, they reluctantly pack it up. But Xuxi tucks a couple joints he prerolled earlier into the front pocket of his jean jacket and they finally leave.

Ten finds himself laughing at nothing, doubled over at his roommate and his friends and their stupid antics. Xuxi makes him laugh the hardest; he's one of those people who just doesn't give a fuck and it shows. It's invigorating to be around him, especially after being cooped up in a flat with someone like Hendery all semester, who walks on eggshells and turns up his nose at everything.

Ten can't deny he's sticking to Sushi way more than usual, tangling their fingers, pressing his face against his bicep as they wait for the uberxl outside. And in the back of the van, Xuxi's hand slides onto his thigh, a habit Ten finds more comforting than he should.

They go to Xuxi's friend Yuqi's party first because he says he needs to see some people, and wind up staying there for at least an hour, before they slink away to some function Kun got invited to. Ten doesn't know anyone there because they're mostly music nerds from their school that he doesn't associate with. They chill there for a while anyway, though. Hours, Ten thinks, but he's not entirely sure. Time isn't real.

Hendery fits right in with Kun's lame friends and gets sucked into a heated debate about the MCU while Yangyang and Xuxi are slurring their words and striking out with every girl they try to talk to. Ten mostly sticks with Dejun, the wallflower, but offers little in terms of company because when he feels this good, he can't do much more than sit back and watch the world burn around him. Watch the hazy myriads of colors and sound contort before his eyes with no hope of perception. 

Ten would say more, but it doesn't matter. That, and he genuinely doesn't remember what happens during a significant chunk of time after he and Xuxi and Yangyang slip away to smoke the first j outside. Ten knows they go back in, but he blinks away at least another thirty minutes to an hour on the couch with Yangyang. He does it again and then he's alone, holding a drink he assumes is the boy's, although Ten doesn't remember him ever getting it.

Ten glances down at the thin, green liquid that glistens inside. It looks innocent, so he lifts the cup to his nose and takes a whiff. He winces as the putrid aroma travels up the back of his throat. It triggers... something in his mind, something intense, caught between a thought and a feeling. He sniffs it again. The drink smells artificial, like sweet candy that gets sour toward the middle, but still bitter like it's strong–the worst kind of mix. Hard on the teeth and the stomach.

And even though it's difficult to think right now, Ten remembers, dragging a series of horrible memories out of their dark recesses. He doesn't think he can ever forget the first time he drank alcohol. He had been fifteen _and his parents were out of town that weekend..._

Ten hates that for a second, out of habit, he considers taking a sip, despite the fact that he's already so fucked he can barely move, barely think or react to the stimuli around him. Maybe Ten is still crazy, but he used to be totally insane. He used to get fucked up nearly every night in some capacity, unable to fall asleep without some sort of substance whirring in his bloodstream. In high school and his first two years of college, Ten did a lot of things no one is proud of. Abusing substances was just the cherry on top of the sweet, decadent disaster that was his life. This of course stemmed from his perpetual desire to end said life, a thought he's had every day for as long as he can remember. A part of him had hoped he would go too far one night, that he would just die on accident.

In the end, Ten decides he's not stupid enough to drink it. Alcohol poisoning is a terrible way to go. Yangyang, to no one's surprise, _is_ that stupid. He comes back from the bathroom, takes the cup and downs its contents all in one swig. Ten grimaces at the sight, saying a silent prayer for the boy's liver, and his sanity.

His prayers fall on deaf ears. No more than five minutes later, Yangyang is puking his guts out behind a shrub outside. Ten wants to feel bad, but the youngest did bring this on himself. He should've known better than to drink more after they already smoked the second time. In the end, Kun is the only one sober enough to make rational decisions– that, and Xuxi and Dejun are still too fucked up to go home just yet – so he calls a ride, bids them all adieu and takes Yangyang back to his place.

Ten remembers feeling relieved in that moment. If there's one thing he knows about Kun, it's that he's caring, innately so, like a mother hen. He nursed Ten many times when he returned to the dorm so wasted he couldn't speak, making sure he was hydrated and had a trash bag next to the bed readily available for when the need to retch inevitably arose.

The night is a series of stops and starts from beginning to end, the timeline of events bleeding together like a messy watercolor painting. In this dreamlike state, everything unfolds in slow motion, but in a shitty, disoriented way, like stop action in an old black and white movie.

Ten blinks again, and they're sitting on the curb outside. Xuxi is lighting the last j. It's insane that he can even think about putting something else into his system right now. Ten tapped out at least an hour ago and he's still fucked. But he thinks they should be ready to call it a night after this. The party got awkward when Kun left. That's probably why they came out here.

The air is crisp against his hot flesh, the dark flush that burns high on his cheeks and chest. His senses are numbed, but he can tell it's a little chilly. There's a gentle breeze that dishevels his hair every now and then, but he's too out of it to be worried about maintaining his appearance.

Ten is underwater, but he's cognizant enough to realize how gone Hendery must be. The boy's presence is unmistakable beside him on the left. Although, he's never this quiet, jaw tightly locked, eyes empty and fixed on the street just ahead. It's a bit unusual that he's not giggling about something with Xuxi, or mocking DJ, or clinging to Ten like a baby spider monkey. He wants to ask Hendery if he's okay. Come to think of it, the boy didn't drink that much. And he didn't smoke again. Maybe he's just tired.

"Quick, DJ, truth or dare?" Xuxi's voice seems loud all of a sudden.

And Ten's focus is pulled back to his current surroundings, the warped sounds of the party behind them, the music, pointless chatter and the fact that Kun and Yangyang are gone. He checks his hoodie for his phone.

"No, no no–,"

"Whaaat?"

"We are _not_ playing this game," Dejun groans.

"C'mon man," Xuxi's voice sounds even thicker and richer than normal, like maple syrup. He looks so disappointed.

"Shit, I'm down," Ten finally remembers how to speak, "Not like we have anything better to do."

"Ugh, fine," Dejun resigns rather quickly in defeat. Sometimes it seems like he complains just for sport, "Truth."

"Lame," Ten grumbles, stretching his fingers through the grass behind them, his head rolling back between his shoulders.

"Hmm," Xuxi pauses to pull on the end of the joint. "Have you ever thought about kissing a guy?" 

"Fuck no," DJ scoffs.

"Lie," Ten sits up, pointing his finger, "He answered too fast."

" _Heyy_. You can't lie. That's against the rules, man–"

"I'm not lying! Some of us are actually straight, you know?"

"Ew. Can you imagine," Ten makes a gagging sound.

"Couldn't be me," Xuxi shudders, and everyone's head snaps toward him, "Oh, right. Hi, guys. I'm bi, guys."

"I knew it!" he exclaims. Ten is never wrong about these things.

"My turn. Truth or dare?" DJ nudges Xuxi and he passes the j.

"Dare. I swear, nothing gross, though."

"I dare you to ... buy me mcnuggets after this," Dejun says, voice soft when he tacks on, "I'm starving."

"Ugh," Xuxi cries, "Fine. Ten, truth or dare?"

"Dare," he murmurs.

" _Yess_ finally."

"Yeah this was getting boring. It's DJ's fault."

"Hey!"

"Better make it good," Ten warns.

"Oh don't you worry," Xuxi assures, coy. Ten can't say he's all that excited to find out what he means by that.

"I dare you to..."

There's a moment where they're all waiting on bated breath, anticipating his response. Xuxi's eyes flicker to Hendery, then back to Ten. And if any of them hears disaster knocking at the door, at the moment no one's fast enough to stop Xuxi from opening it.

"... kiss Hendery. Ha!" Xuxi seems so pleased with himself.

"Oh my God, fuck off," Ten immediately shuts it down.

"Babe, come on. Don't be _lame_ ," Xuxi complains. It's their word of choice tonight. "We all want to see it–"

Dejun's guffaw cuts him short, "I _definitely_ don't want to see that."

"Something else," Ten mumbles. He feels uncomfortable all of a sudden, mostly due to the fact that Hendery is eerily silent next to him, like a hologram, not even really there at all.

"Nah, just _do_ it."

There's a subtle tension between the four of them, despite how intoxicated they are. It's strange. Ten feels like everything is one loose seam away from unraveling completely or like he's watching a busy intersection right before a fatal vehicular collision.

"But ...he doesn't want me to," he tries to laugh it off. He doesn't know why it feels so serious all of a sudden but he's willing to try anything to make the moment end.

It doesn't work. That tension builds gradually, painstakingly, as Ten and Xuxi eye each other. Dejun stares pointedly at the ground, using the toe of his sneaker to rearrange the gravel.

"Uh, yeah he does," Xuxi insists.

At first, no one makes a move or a sound. No one reacts. It's dead silent and _feels_ like forever, but in real time it doesn't take more than a second for the weight of those words to sink in. Realization is a slow process, but it happens. And Ten feels sick.

He looks hesitantly at Hendery. But Hendery is already looking down the line at Xuxi, eyes going terrifyingly dark.

"Fuck you, man," he slurs. He doesn't even say it loudly, but his tone is laced in betrayal. Kunhang stands from the curb and takes off silently in the other direction. It's not even a dramatic exit - it's just sad. But in a way, it's worse.

"Hendery, wait," Ten calls to him, but the younger doesn't look deterred in the slightest.

"Shit," Xuxi pitches the roach.

"Nice one, dude," Dejun mutters next to him.

And perhaps Ten doesn't have a normal reaction to ...whatever just happened. He is seriously fucked, with not one rational thought to spare _._ Hehas no clue what to do. What Xuxi said hasn't even really registered yet. Or maybe, Ten just doesn't want to believe it. But, the first priority is his roommate. Of course. He has to deal with Hendery _first_. Ten knows that much.

"It's okay, Xuxi," he sighs, wobbling a bit as he stands, "I've got him. You guys go on. Go get DJ his food."

And Xuxi gives him a dejected look, eyes narrow, mouth turned down, that screams, _I fucked up._ And ...yeah. But Ten doesn't want him to feel bad. He wants Xuxi to always smile and laugh and feel free of all burdens. That's the way Ten likes him best. So he tries his best to convey one in return that says, _it's fine_. He also wants to believe that.

With that, Ten leaves the other half of their friend group to chase after his roommate. Hendery must be more sober than he thought because he's making impeccable time. Ten can't exactly keep up in this state. He's fallen enough times over the years to know not to try to run, would rather not have a face full of pavement.

He sees Hendery when he gets to the end of the neighborhood street. He crosses it without hesitation, not even bothering to look for traffic. Thank God there isn't much at this hour. Ten picks up the pace a bit, terrified to lose his trail in the dark shadows, casted from weeping tree branches and buzzing power lines overhead.

He turns the corner and Ten follows. He's getting tired. He's sure Kunhang is running low on steam now too. Hopefully that means he's calmed down as well.

He reaches an intersection. The traffic lights flicker yellow warning lights. Ten's vision goes fuzzy for a moment. He rubs his eyes and there's two more lights than there were before. Ten shakes his head firmly, willing his wits to come back to him. When he opens his eyes this time, he sees a boy– his boy, just a few meters away. He's sitting at a bus stop, on a lonely steel bench below a dim, flickering street light.

Ten takes a few hesitant steps toward him, like he's worried the younger might pounce on him. He eventually gets close enough to Kunhang to make out the details of his face, his blonde hair that falls messily into his black eyes, flitting on the wind. His expression is eerily devoid of emotion, of anything at all.

Ten realizes then that he hasn't paid much attention to the boy tonight. Now that he's thinking about it, Hendery may have been avoiding him this whole time. 

"You knew, right?" he suddenly says.

"...um. 'Knew what?" Ten plays dumb. He's not sure why he bothers. Hendery is not going to say it. But if Ten is lucky, he's still drunk enough to talk.

It doesn't seem so. He sighs and sits next to Hendery, maintaining a safe distance between their bodies.

"I guess, I had a hunch."

His roommate doesn't speak, just sits, knees tucked into his chest, arms curled around his legs. The moment drones on as they both wait for something else to happen. It's so ... _awkward_. This is not normal for them. 

Ten is using all of his remaining mental strength to fight the inebriation, but every second of silence pulls him right back down. But he supposes, if he was sober he still wouldn't know what to do.

"H-how long?" Ten tries, tentative.

"...a while," the other finally answers.

"Oh. So... since we lived together?"

Kunhang closes his eyes, as if he's preparing for the worst. His tone diminishes to a mumble, "...high school."

_Oh God._

"Hendery–," Ten reaches one hand out.

"Please... don't," he cuts in, voice tight. Ten retreats.

"I ... I just–,"

"My phone is dead," Hendery forces, "Can you call the ride?"

He's obviously not in the mood to talk about it now. Still, Ten feels like there's something more he ought to say or do. But for now, he gives in. He's narrowly avoided enough disasters for one day. He doesn't actually want this to blow up in his face.

"...okay," he says.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hendery works at best buy lmfao. guys if this is trash keep it to yourself a bitch is going through a loooot rn.

Sunday is the most awkward day of the week, but today it feels particularly so. Despite the fact that he and Kunhang are both home, the apartment is so still Ten thinks he could hear a pin drop.

He wanders into the kitchen sometime in the late afternoon and fixes something to eat. Granted it’s nothing special - just a bowl of frosted flakes and soy milk. It feels like a grand achievement though. He has been trying to take better care of himself.

He munches his cereal at the table alone, but Leon and Louis are company enough. They’re both staring at him, owl eyed as he eats, waiting for something to happen, for food to fall or his attention to be directed at them. Leon gets tired of waiting and stands up on his hind legs, rests his paws on Ten’s exposed thigh and stretches his vertebrae. His claws dig into Ten’s skin, dragging downward.

Ten pets the boy’s tiny head gently a few times before he just gives in and drags him up into his lap. Hendery would surely have something to say if he was here to see the cat joining him at the table. But alas, he isn’t.

And, Ten tries not to overthink or take that personally. He knows his roommate is probably just upset about what happened last night. He figures if he just hangs out with the cats and keeps his distance today, by tomorrow Hendery will come out of it.

-

However, the next comes and goes with more of the same. Tuesday is when things become... concerning. That's when it becomes evident that something is wrong.

Because of course Hendery has decided he’s going to be weird about it.

When he’s not at work, he’s holed up in his room, gaming and smoking all day – which is surely what he would be doing over the break anyway. The problem is that he slips out surreptitiously throughout the day to get food or to use the bathroom or to leave Ten’s meds on the counter and then he goes right back into his room. He goes to work and comes back and barely spares Ten a glance before he disappears again, closing himself up in his room for the rest of the night and eventually falling asleep.

It feels like Ten is being punished, like Hendery is mad at him. He’s actively avoiding him, which sucks, since Ten didn’t _do_ anything.

He thinks a lot about everything that happened that night, and even things that happened in the weeks and months leading up to it. He comes to the conclusion that he does play some role in this. It’s not his fault per se, but he is, to some extent, to blame.

But Ten doesn’t really know what Hendery is thinking because they don’t _talk_ about it.

In fact, it’s been a whole three days now since graduation night and Hendery has barely even looked at him.

Ten doesn’t know if he feels more upset at Xuxi or with himself for being so careless. Not saying it was Hendery’s fault, but they were all so drunk and high that no one would’ve even noticed if he hadn’t gotten so triggered. Sure Xuxi has a big mouth, but it was clearly just a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by it.

Ten on the other hand, has been so utterly blind. For years. There’s really no excuse for him not to have seriously considered that his best friend might feel something for him.

If he felt sick with guilt before, for ruining Kunhang’s life, for putting him through hell, it’s only increased tenfold.

 _Since high school,_ he said. So that means all those times they skipped class together to get fucked up, those times they spoke on the phone at 3 am when Ten lived in the dorm, when Hendery agreed to move in with him, when he listened to Ten complain about his boyfriends, now ex-boyfriends, or when he talked about men he wanted to pursue in the future, like Johnny. 

That must have sucked. And Hendery likely endured it all _because_ of how he felt.

It’s not something Ten can think about for too long before he feels a heavy weight sinking on his chest and some difficult emotion accumulating in the back of his throat. He wants to be mad at Xuxi and just blame him for all of this, but in the end it’s always easier to direct those negative emotions toward himself.

He should’ve _known_.

_“There are plenty of decent guys your own age, you know?”_

-

That evening, Ten decides he can’t take it anymore and tells Xuxi to come get him. Perhaps he is using this entire situation to guilt the younger. If it wasn’t for his big mouth, none of this would be happening in the first place. But Ten has already spent three days wracking his brain for a solution, to no avail, and what he really needs now is a distraction.

“Let’s go get matching tattoos,” Ten suggests as soon as he gets in the car. He slams the door behind him, sending the little gold lion pendant on the rearview mirror swaying from side to side.

“All of a sudden?” Xuxi frowns comically. He’s leaned far enough back in the driver’s seat that his head probably isn’t even visible through the window. His knees bracket the steering wheel as he twists the grinder once, twice.

“Or piercings. Dude, I really want an eyebrow piercing.”

“That could be cool. Got tired of doing those on yourself?”

“Nah, I came into some graduation money recently.” Also Ten really doesn’t trust himself to do something like that and not, as Yangyang so eloquently stated, ‘hit a nerve and paralyze his whole face’.

“Oo from your parents? Or your sugar daddy?”

“ _Hey_. Johnny’s not my sugar daddy,” Ten gawks.

“That’s right. My mistake. He’s your _professor_.”

“ _Was_ my professor,” Ten corrects.

“True, true. You gonna keep seeing him?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. Well, he _hopes_ so. Ten doesn’t know. They haven't exactly talked about it. They don’t do a lot of... talking when they’re alone.

“Just don’t catch feelings, okay? I know he’s really hot and the dick is bomb, but those kinds of dudes… you gotta be careful.”

Ten doesn’t understand what he means. It’s way too late to be worried about that.

“He’s like, perfect,” Xuxi explains, taking a serious tone, “A guy like that is obviously hiding something.”

And Ten stares at the younger boy for a long moment, unsure if he’s joking. Xuxi glances over. A slow smile spreads across his face first, then his shoulders start to shake with light laughter. The elder laughs too, albeit a bit forced.

Maybe because Xuxi has a point. He often makes clever perceptions without noticing. But after some consideration, Ten can admit to himself he still doesn’t know a lot _about_ Johnny.

He knows Johnny’s habits, his likes and dislikes, about his career, his current job and his hobbies. But he doesn’t know anything about the man’s family, his past, or his previous relationships. Maybe Johnny isn’t hiding anything from Ten, but rather the younger hasn’t made a huge effort to get to know those things about him.

Xuxi sifts the little green herbs out of the grinder and into the backwood. He uses his fingertips to distribute it out evenly, spilling a bit out of the sides. Watching him roll blunts is usually therapeutic, since he’s good at it, but the way he’s now balancing everything on his thigh makes Ten nervous.

He lifts the tobacco leaf wrap slowly, sits up carefully and rests it on the dashboard. Xuxi’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth in concentration as he starts to apply pressure, rolling a tight, spiral cylinder between his fingertips. He seals the end, then finishes, giving the blunt a proud once over. There’s some crumbs, but he uses a finger to sweep them back into the grinder for later.

“Alright. Enough talk. Lets smoke this shit,” he fumbles around in his seat for a minute before he realizes he’s sitting on the lighter. And, with a resigned sigh, “Then… I guess we’re getting piercings.”

“Yay,” Ten cheers, clapping his hands like a seal.

-

“Oh God. What have you done?” Dejun grabs at his chest as he opens the door. Xuxi and Ten stand on the other side of the doorway, the elder with a couple bags of mexican food on his arm and the younger with his keys still poised in the door lock.

Ten is burnt, but he realizes DJ is likely referring to their matching eyebrow piercings. Well, they’re not exactly a match. Ten got one on each eyebrow for symmetry, and of course to spite his loving father, while Xuxi got two towards the end of his right brow. It suits him well, but makes him look even more like a fuckboy than he already did.

“We got you food!” Xuxi exclaims, either unaware what he’s talking about or pointedly ignoring it.

Bella is barking and barking, nonstop, her tinny voice carrying throughout the hall. Ten winces as the sound reverberates against his skull and passes DJ of the bags as he enters the apartment. He immediately starts searching through it for the paper bag of tortilla chips sitting at the top. He slips one into his mouth, all woes quelled instantly.

Ten follows Xuxi inside and they both kick off their shoes. “Now you can stop being so grumpy. For now,” he gives Dejun’s hair a light ruffle and the boy is too focused on munching to dodge it.

Yangyang is leaning against the kitchen counter, phone landscape between his fingers. His eyes land on Ten and he startles dramatically, “Woah,” he gasps.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming.”

“No, but damn, that’s…a bold choice.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment. The one compliment you’ve ever given me in my life,” Ten says as he approaches him, resting the second bag next to him. He gives the younger boy’s earlobe a pinch and pulls hard.

“Dickhead,” Yangyang huffs, playfully shoving him away, “Why didn’t you bring Hendery with you? He’s actually nice to me.”

“Since when?” DJ scoffs and laughs, laying the other bag down with the first, then starts unloading its contents, checking the marker scribbles on the top to decipher what is what and whose is whose.

“Hendery is cancelled,” Ten grabs for his food.

“Right,” Xuxi enters the kitchen next, Bella’s claws scrabbling against the tiled floor as she over excitedly tries to keep up with his movements. “He’s been acting _super_ weird since the weekend.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” DJ laughs, sarcastic.

“Huh?” Yangyang frowns, “I’m lost.”

Ten sighs. Of course he is. Although he hates reliving it, he catches Yangyang up on what happened that night after he left with Kun. Talking about it feels weird, especially since he hasn’t even talked to Hendery yet.

“I don’t know why he’s being such a drama queen anyway. I didn’t say anything we all weren’t already thinking.”

“That’s not the point. He…confided in you and you like, betrayed him. That’s not cool,” Yangyang accuses.

“ _Please_. We all know he’s wanted to fuck Ten since high scho–,”

“Xuxi!” Dejun shoots him a glare, “Shut _up_.”

“But Ten already knew!” Xuxi looks to him for help. It’s not entirely true, but Ten nods anyway.

“Either way, you need to apologize to him,” DJ eventually sighs.

Xuxi throws his hands up, exasperated. “Listen man, I’ve tried. He’s not answering my texts.”

“He answers mine. We’re playing PUBG,” Yangyang boasts. Dejun hits him with Bella's rubber chicken toy and a satisfying _squeak_.

“Fuck!” the youngest yelps, dropping the phone with a _clatter_ and clutching his head with both hands.

“Whatever. You know how he gets,” Xuxi shrugs at Ten, “We just need to leave him be for a while.”

Ten gives him a disconcerted look. The younger always approaches everything with a zen attitude, but maybe it is what he needs to tell himself to feel less shitty about what he did.

“…he’ll be back to driving us crazy in no time.”

Ten never thought he’d say he hopes so.

-

When Ten wakes up the next day around midday, Kunhang has already gone to work. With him out of the house, and the awkward, static tension his presence evokes, Ten feels like he can breathe better. He hates that he’s starting to get used to his absence from his life. Not that Ten has actually tried to talk to his roommate since Saturday. Maybe he should. Waiting around for something to happen is pretty much hopeless.

The silence is killing Ten, so he decides he’ll confront Hendery when he comes home. Until then, he tries to keep busy with chores and job searching. Despite the temptation to lay in bed for another week doing nothing, he wants to be productive for his own sake at least, and he really needs to get serious about some things. Since he worked on campus, now that he's graduated, he’s out of a job. Which is bad considering he’s an adult with bills and rent and little cat mouths to feed. His parents' generosity is just about used up.

But finding a new one will just have to wait a bit longer because his phone is going off with a call from his favorite professor and Ten giddily rolls over, snatches it from the nightstand and swipes to answer it, ever grateful for the distraction from his qualms and responsibilities.

And they talk for a long time, about silly, unimportant topics, serious ones, about nothing at all. Ten tells Johnny about graduation night, his new piercings, and how Hendery has been avoiding him because up until now, it’s astounding, really, just how easily he can solve his problems–

“Let me stop. We always talk about my problems. What about yours?”

“ _I have no problems. Haven’t you noticed? I’m perfect._ ”

Ten laughs at that. He fights the urge to agree. Johnny _is_ perfect, to him, in every single way. But he could never let something so cringe-worthy leave his mouth.

“How’s the book coming?”

“ _Hm. Well, I do have one problem: writer's block. Maybe I’ll work on it later this week. Or not. Who knows?_ ”

“What’s it about, anyways? You never told me.”

“... _you’re going to laugh_.”

“No I won’t.”

“ _You better not,”_ Johnny mutters, and it makes Ten feel a certain way whenever he takes that tone with him. Even if it is just a joke, _“It’s about a boy and his best friend. One day, he wakes up and realizes they’ve, uh, switched bodies_.”

“Ohh like _Freaky Friday_?”

“ _Yep_. _Silly, huh_?”

“No, it sounds interesting. I can’t wait to read it.”

“ _If it ever gets finished, that is._ ”

“Finish it. If it gets popular, they'll want to make a big movie out of it.”

“ _Wouldn’t that be something? I’ve always wanted to go to Hollywood._ ”

“California seems really cool. New York, too.”

“ _I’ve been to NYC a few times for work. It’s congested. And humid in the summer._ ”

“Man, I don’t care. If I had any money, I’d go right now. I’d honestly go _anywhere_.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sick of being stuck at home with my cats and my sulky roommate, Johnny. I’m about to slam my head into the wall.”

“ _I need a nice vacation too. You know, I had this one student in my class this semester that drove me crazy. I still haven’t recovered._ ”

Ten smirks, “Sounds like he did a number on you.”

“ _Ten, to be exact_ ,” Johnny just can’t help himself.

The smile slides right off Ten’s face. He sighs loudly at the terrible fucking joke, eyes rolling shut in dismay. The older man just laughs, thoroughly amused by his reaction.

“ _My friend Doyoung owns a lake house. It’s beautiful in the summer. We all used to go there a lot before his daughter was born, take the boat out. Anyway, I’m sure he’d let me borrow it for the weekend?_ ”

“Hold up. You’re asking that crazy student of yours to go to your friend’s swanky lakehouse _with_ you?” Ten’s heart flutters.

“ _Yeah, what do you think? A change of scenery would be good for both of us, right? Maybe I could actually get some writing done_ ,” Johnny explains, and it makes sense, “ _Want to?_ ”

“Hell yeah, I do."

-

When Ten was young, he was alone. For as long as he could remember, he felt like he had no one, no one to turn to in times of frustration, of need, and confusion. When his parents moved the family here, he was already old enough to realize he was an outcast. In addition to normal social anxiety, he felt like everyone would know he was playing a charade, that it was only a matter of time before other boys realized he wasn’t what he said he was, or worse, bullied him for being different.

Sicheng was the first person he felt safe with here. He felt safe opening up to him because the boy understood what it was like to live many different lives, to keep his school and dance life totally separate because he didn’t want to get made fun of. That was one of the few ways he and Winwin were alike.

But after the academy, Ten really didn’t have anyone. He became a loner, the kind of person who could make the whole class laugh but then go home in the afternoon and be totally alone, lock himself in his room and talk to strangers on the Internet. For much of his adolescence, he was isolated from people his own age, didn’t feel like he belonged to any group or fit in anywhere. At that point he was drifting away from Winwin as well; the memories were just too painful.

Kunhang was the second person he felt safe with, and perhaps, the most important. Ten was in a strange headspace when they met. He acted like he was invincible back then, as if he was forged of divine gold. Hendery worshipped him like a false god.

Maybe the artist in Ten gravitated toward the younger boy because he was like a blank canvas, pure and white like snow. He was empty in the eyes, with a messy way of speaking, a weird sense of humor and a goofy donkey laugh that never failed to make Ten crack a smile too. Maybe he had wanted to leave his mark on him, strange, obscure shapes and odd color mixtures so that when he left this world Hendery was the living proof he had existed.

Perhaps Hendery himself was fascinated with Ten, who could walk into a den of lions with his head held high. Or maybe it was just a little entertaining to watch, to hear the stories, to be so close to a disaster yet protected from its aftershocks.

But Kunhang knew better than anyone that he was a ticking time bomb, waiting for just the right moment to detonate and destroy all in his path. But for some reason, he stayed. He did more than stick around – Hendery got closer and he got _comfortable_. He laid brick and mortar, built his entire life around Ten, or at least the idea of him.

He had seemed so level headed, but in secret, Hendery was equally desperate for disaster. This was what he wanted.

Ten finds him in the kitchen that evening, still in his work uniform. He never could pull off khakis, but the navy blue polo stretches over his sinewy shoulders nicely, tucked neatly under his black leather belt.

Right now, his fingertips ache with the urge to reach out and touch Hendery, to wrap his arms around his waist from behind and press his face between the angled shoulder blades and inhale his warm, familiar scent, like vanilla, peonies and weed ever present underneath. It’s suddenly been too long since Ten has touched him, since he even felt like he could engage without any undesired implications.

“Hi,” he hesitantly approaches.

“...hey,” Hendery answers like he’s on auto pilot. Ten comes a bit closer and now sees he’s sipping something from his favorite mug with pink hearts all over it. What a princess.

“How was your day?”

“Good. You?” his posture is strained with many reservations.

“Fine. I put more holes in my face. What do you think?” Because talking about body modifications always makes normal people give at least some sort of reaction. Usually negative, but still, _a reaction_. He should’ve known it wouldn’t work on Hendery considering how truly abnormal he is.

“Cool,” he says dismissively, not even bothering to look. _Asshole,_ Ten thinks _._

He sighs, long and drawn out. He makes him feel like the dramatic. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. “So…I guess you’re just never going to talk to me again?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“What is there to talk about?” He finishes his beverage calmly. Ten hates when he does that– when he plays _dumb_.

He rubs the back of his neck, “…You know.”

“Mm…no, I don’t,” he forces a laugh. Is Hendery really going to be like this, make _him_ do all the work? Typical.

“You like me,” Ten folds his arms over his chest. “Right?”

Hendery’s iron grip on that mug tightens. It’s empty now and he has no use for it, yet his gaze remains cemented like it can help him get through this confrontation. Ten wouldn’t be surprised if it shattered under the pressure.

“What does it matter?” he mutters. It’s not an answer.

“It matters to me.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.” That’s not an answer, either. It really hasn’t felt that way lately. They’re so toxic to each other. The guilt lying dormant in the back of Ten’s mind flares wildly when he thinks about how messy this whole situation has become, and the knowledge that Hendery has taken most of the force of the impact, alone. Although, that was his choice.

“I don’t know. I really don’t think I can be your friend right now.”

Maybe it would hurt if it wasn’t what Ten was expecting.

“Then don’t,” the elder shrugs, “Be something else.”

No matter how Ten looks back on the events of the past, it’s clear that he owes Hendery for torturing him, ruining his life, and breaking his heart.

Hendery’s expression is pinched with a grimace, “I don’t understand,” he says, and if Ten thought he was bad at reading between the lines, Hendery is the absolute worst. He’s uncomfortable, though, impatient to get this over with, and sometimes the best way to explain a thing is by showing it.

So, like an idiot, Ten kisses him.

His timing with these sorts of things is always poor, messy. Ten can't read people well and thinks he can solve problems by just pinning the most obvious solution onto them. Likewise, when Hendery doesn’t pull away immediately, still just frozen in shock, Ten struggles to tell whether his reaction is positive or negative.

There seems to be a moment of hesitation, Hendery’s lips twitching like he might actually be considering kissing back. But it’s not longer than a second, certainly not enough to be significant. In the end, the younger always deprives himself of what he truly wants.

He flinches out of Ten’s hold like he’s just been torched.

“Hendery, wait–,” the elder grips his arm tighter, not wanting to lose him just yet.

“-- _No_ ,” Hendery insists. He's _angry_ , in that way Ten has only seen him a few times before– when he’s been humiliated, or is frustrated with a problem that seems to have no solution. Ten can’t tell which of these he’s feeling now, or if it’s both.

Ten sees it coming before it happens, but he’s no less annoyed when his roommate puts both hands on his chest and shoves him once for good measure, putting a considerable amount of distance between their bodies.

“You can’t just…” his voice breaks off. He’s dumbfounded, but there’s a sadness in his gaze too. His eyes are like a solar eclipse, black moons on fire. Ten can’t look away.

“....you can’t _do this_ to me again.”

His pained expression burns Ten, staining his memory long after he leaves the kitchen in a huff and his bedroom door has slammed behind him.

-

_are you awake?_

_Nope._

_i didn’t want to ask but_

_can u come get me?_

_? What’s wrong?_

_i can’t be here rn_

_Is everything okay?_

_it’s a long story._

_if you can’t i can just go for a walk_

_No. I will come._

_thank you_

_:)_

-

Johnny’s fingertips trace slowly over Ten’s ribs, down his soft sides. His touch is warm and feather light. He’s always so gentle, as if he is barely there at all. Perhaps the only proof that this is real is the warmth boiling in his blood, that blood fast rushing south. The other is the perpetual stinging Ten knows will remain in his chest long after it’s over.

Johnny never fails to make the hair stand on the back of his neck and goosebumps break out across his arms. Hands cup his waist, thumbs moving in slow circles along his belly.

Johnny leans in slowly, pressing an innocent kiss to it. Ten’s heart flutters at the sentiment. Maybe not because it’s a sweet gesture, but because he’s wound so tightly, it’s _painful_. Anything Johnny gives him right now is like a hot fire licking at his bones. He’s so sensitive, everywhere. It almost _hurts_ when those lips touch the place just below his navel.

It’s even worse when he parts them and takes the skin into his mouth. He keeps his hands moving, roving over Ten’s body, up his back then over his chest as he sucks there, softly.

Johnny sinks his front teeth into his flesh once before pulling off, laving over the sore spot with his tongue. He finishes with a chaste kiss before moving to a new one.

Ten shudders under Johnny’s ministrations, when he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of his torso. He smooths his palms over Ten’s hips and kisses his piercing before dipping his tongue into his belly button.

And Ten just watches Johnny silently, carding a hand through his hair. It’s silky under his fingertips, although a little tangled and messy from what he’s doing to it.

One hand slides down to Ten’s outer thigh, squeezing it gently as he kisses over his hip. He inhales slowly as Johnny melts a kiss right there at the juncture of his hip and thigh. His other hand cups Ten’s opposite side, thumb caressing his lower stomach.

Johnny glances upward, gauging his response. Ten stares at him, diaphragm rising and falling faster with anticipation. He feels so desperate already, just from this, just from the way Johnny looks at him.

The elder smiles wickedly as his thumb rubs incessantly at the smooth skin there as lips ghost over the top of his thigh. He _hates_ to be teased but there’s not much he can do about it. Teasing is probably one of Johnny’s favorite things to do in bed. Well, hate is a strong word. But who knows what catastrophe might unfold if Johnny doesn’t do something soon.

Ten really doesn’t want to beg. But Johnny secretly likes it when he does. He gets gratification from seeing Ten’s strong personality diminished to that. He likes to break him down, to toy with his body and mind until he feels like he’s going to implode.

Johnny wraps his fingers around his ankle, lifting his leg up over his shoulder. He drags his pillowy lips along the inside of Ten’s thigh, not hesitating to press his teeth into the pudgy flesh whenever he sees fit. And it’s something Ten doesn’t mind - being covered with lovebites. It’s something he prefers, actually. He lives for these little reminders on his skin–especially the darker, more painful ones. The thought of Johnny leaving those kinds of marks on his neck, his ass, makes him _ache_.

Johnny sucks another hickey there before drawing the other leg over his other shoulder. Ten’s heart rate spikes as he cups his waist with both hands and dips down between his thighs.

And he tries to calm down. He tries to breathe. But Ten has never felt like this with anyone, like every touch frays his nerves and sparks white hot electricity in his bones. Wherever Ten is cold and empty, like a corpse, Johnny breathes warmth and _life_ into, until it’s all he feels, all he knows. It’s like his mouth and his hands and his eyes have resurrected him, giving him a brand new human experience like never before.

Although Ten knows better, Johnny makes his body, so very twisted and wrong, feel beautiful, special, like something created solely for him to worship and praise. It swarms his mind with a tangle of thoughts and emotions Ten really can’t comprehend. He doesn’t think the way Johnny is will ever cease to astound him, to arouse him.

A shuddery breath spills past his lips when he feels Johnny’s bottom lip grazing his clit. He kisses it once, insultingly chaste. It’s so swollen, Ten is sure he can feel it throbbing. Ten is sure Johnny _knows_ how much he needs him, even if he refuses to acknowledge it.

“Johnny,” he whimpers, his hole, still wet with Johnny’s own release clenches. The man parts his lips, holding Ten’s gaze as he lets hot breaths fan out between his thighs, making mini fires flare across his hypersensitive skin.

Johnny presses his face to Ten’s inner thigh and Ten arches when he feels the prickling stubble under his chin.

“Mhm,” he hums, the sound resonating in his chest, sending cruel vibrations through Ten’s body. “What’s the magic word?”

Ten still doesn’t know how to feel about this thing they do together. He certainly doesn’t know what to make of how quickly and easily Johnny cuts him down, dials him back. It feels like he’s being _trained_.

He didn’t think he would enjoy falling apart under his professor as much as he does. Ten always thought he would be the one to steer Mr. Seo away from the straight and narrow, to get under his skin and corrupt him. He never imagined it would be _him_ turning his back on everything he knows, everything he is.

“ _Please,_ ” he pants.

He never thought it would feel so good to _submit_.

Without hesitation, Johnny’s hot mouth envelops him. Heat curls in his belly immediately, sending a zing of pleasure up his spine.

“Mmm – _fuck_ ,” Ten arches sweetly, taking a fistful of the satin sheets beside his head.

Johnny’s lips are so incredibly soft. His kisses are like a dream; Ten should’ve known he would be good at this.

They suck at his clit once before his tongue swipes upward, across the sensitive nub before coming back down to lave over it slowly and _fuck_. Good is an understatement. Ten’s not going to last.

Johnny gives him a few more tentative strokes, just feeling, tasting. Ten hangs on to every sensation he elicits, responding with trembles and soft sighs.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “Your pussy tastes so good.”

At that, Ten’s mind shorts out. He lets his head tip back against the mattress, overwhelmed.

Johnny moves downward, then, mouthing lower until he meets his opening. His short nails dig into Ten’s hips as he presses his tongue against his hole, so messy with slick and cum, and licks it out of him. He swirls the tip of it inside, sweeping in slow circles around the outside before prodding in deep. Then he’s fucking Ten with his tongue, over and over.

“ _Oh–_ ,” he moans, running his hand over his chest.

Johnny pleasures him with long, full strokes that alternate with the occasional quick flicks of his tongue against his clit. The filthy wet sounds of his lips kissing, his tongue lapping eagerly at his entrance and sucking his own release out of him, makes Ten’s entire body flare with an unyielding heat. How has Johnny not melted?

He’s making such a mess of Ten, in all forms. As if he wasn’t enough already, Johnny gets him even wetter, everywhere, inside and out when he drags his tongue up through his labia, toward his clit again, leaving an indistinguishable blend of slick and cum and saliva in his wake. Pleasure breaks out on Ten’s flesh like pins and needles, sending an icy chill down his back.

It juxtaposes the tantalizing warmth steadily growing throughout his body, tickling all the way from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. Desire leaks out of him like boiling magma. Sweat prickles along his temples and the base of his spine as Johnny drags his tongue upward, stiffening it before rubbing it against his clit, relentlessly.

He digs the tip into it before flicking out quickly, once, twice. Fingers rub slowly along Ten’s inner thigh as he does it again and again. Ten gasps and writhes, producing even more slick. The sticky fluid dribbles down his taint and Johnny catches it, using his tongue to fuck it back inside.

“ _Daddy_ ,” he strains, pleasure so thick he has to fight it to form words.

Johnny’s lips and tongue close around his clit again, suckling it softly. He hums as he pulls off.

“What do you need?” he peers up at the younger through his hair. It’s hard to look at him right now, when his lips are dark and full and glossy with his own fluids. Ten fears if he lets it arouse him anymore than he already is, he will ignite.

“Your fingers,” Ten catches his left nipple between his index and middle finger, rolling it shyly. He’s close. “Please.”

“So polite,” Johnny gushes, pleased, “How could I say no?”

He pulls back just enough to fit a hand between them. Then, two fingers are feeling between the folds. They rub around his hole teasingly before delving inside, all the way up to the last knuckle. Johnny draws them out slowly, before pressing back in deep, spreading him open.

“Oh. So fucking wet for me,” the elder awes, dragging them out of Ten’s body once more. Fresh, clear slick glistens on his fingers. He rubs the pad of his thumb against them for a moment, marveling at the texture.

“Yeah, daddy. All for you,” Ten arches, trying to spur him on. He needs _more_.

His fingers ease back into Ten’s body, crooking slightly upward so his knuckles rub against his walls. Ten’s lips part slightly and all other thoughts dissipate as he’s penetrated again.

He’s _throbbing_. He wants more–he wants Johnny’s cock again. But unfortunately it’s difficult for them to go twice in a row.

“Please, one more. I’m so close–” Ten’s thighs shake around his head. Johnny gives him a third.

Johnny builds the rhythm back fairly quickly. He fucks him with his fingers, slow and deep. He takes Ten back into his mouth and this time, the combination of stimulation has a gentle, but intense pressure building between his hips.

Ten’s free hand curls in Johnny’s hair, tangling in the silky strands. He rolls his hips into his face, again and again and soon the heat begins to grow. Eventually he can’t hold the floodgates anymore. His entire body shakes when his orgasm bursts in his belly, sharp tendrils of pleasure rushing down to his toes. Static stars explode behind his eyelids as he cums, crying out softly and clenching tight around three of Johnny’s fingers.

Johnny works him over until he shudders with oversensitivity, thrusting his wrist, tonguing over his slit. Ten rides the intense high for as long as he can. Soon, it dwindles. He exhales all the tension from his body and melts back into the soft sheets, hair fanning out against Johnny’s pillow.

“Fuck,” he pants, exhausted, “You’re good at that.”

“I try,” Johnny murmurs, as he carefully draws his fingers out of him. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then wipes his hand onto the fabric of his boxers. He slips out from under Ten’s legs, letting them rest on the mattress. “Alright.”

He looks up at the older with hooded eyes, still totally incapacitated by what he just did. “What?”

“You’ve had your distraction. Now are you going to tell me what happened?”

“ _Oof_. Sure Johnny, go ahead,” How perceptive he is of Ten using sex as a distraction from emotional dissonance! The younger one is astonished. “Read me to filth.”

Johnny squints, “I’m not familiar with that expression.”

“....Nevermind,” he purses his lips, playing with his fingers on his stomach, “It’s nothing. My roommate and I are just fighting, remember?”

“I thought you were gonna talk to him.”

Ten didn’t tell Johnny _why_ he and Hendery are fighting. Their relationship is complicated and it’s not really something he wants to get into with his professor.

“Yeah. That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.”

“That bad?”

“Bad enough that I needed to find another place to sleep tonight,” he stretches his arms above his head, smiling sweetly, “Your bed is just fine.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess it’s a good thing we’re going away this weekend, huh?”

Ten hesitates, “...Right,”

Johnny looks at him, then sighs, “You forgot already, didn’t you?”

“ _No…_ ” he trails.

“Yeah, sure. Have you started packing yet?”

“Relax, _John_ , I’m gonna. We just made these plans like, today.”

“Make sure you bring a swimsuit. It’s supposed to be nice weather this weekend.”

Ten shudders at the thought of wearing so little clothes in front of Johnny during the day. They keep the lights off during sex for a reason. He masks it with humor. “So, you want to see me in a swimsuit, eh?”

“It’d be an improvement considering what you have on right now,” Johnny pinches his hip lightly.

“Ugh,” Ten twists as if Johnny has actually hurt him, “Just _admit it,_ you old perv.”

“Hey,” Johnny’s mouth falls open. He looks shocked, offended, but in a cute way. “Watch it.”

Ten sits up quickly, putting his nose _really_ close to his, their foreheads less than a centimeter from collision. Johnny has the kindest eyes of any man he’s ever known. He stares into them pointedly, always eager to challenge someone twice his size, his age.

“Why don’t you make me, tough guy?”

As per usual, the elder doesn’t flinch, blink, or seem at all intimidated. He just smirks, eyes twinkling as they trail over Ten’s face, down to his mouth. Johnny cups the side of it, thumbing over his chin.

“That reminds me,” he murmurs. “We need to have a talk.”

“What about?” Ten pouts, inquisitive. He sits back on his hands. Might as well get comfortable.

“I’ve been getting a certain...vibe from you when we’re together. And I was hoping you’d bring it up on your own, but I guess I have to be the adult here and ask,” Johnny starts, as if it’s such a drag, and Ten has no clue what he’s talking about but it sounds bad.

“Oh God,” he panics, “What is it?”

“Your…kinks. What are they?”

“Ah,” Ten breathes a sigh of relief. He thought for sure Johnny was going to tell him this was over. “Aside from calling you daddy?”

Johnny nods. Ten hums, pretending to think.

The truth is, he always gets nervous to share certain parts of himself. He’s had partners who were into what he wanted, and those that were not. He’d been told many ignorant things, like, that his kinks are an extension of self harm, that they correlate with his abuse obsession or that he wants to relive his trauma.

It took him many years to unlearn his toxic mindset, to realize he was worthy of safe, positive and pleasurable experiences. Ten realizes now that despite everything, he’s allowed to enjoy sex, and his kinks are just a part of that. He doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Except Johnny, of course.

“Alright,” he eventually sighs, “…promise you won’t get weirded out?”

Ten holds out his pinky. Johnny hooks his own with it, pressing their thumbs together.

So Ten voices what’s been internalized for a long time, about how he loves pain. How certain types of sensations, scratching, stinging sensations, actually elicit gratification. Stronger, deeper pains feel like an internal massage. It’s hard to explain. He starts by saying he really likes it when the older man presses dark bruises into his hips and sides and sucks blooming red hickeys and bite marks into his thighs. He grazes the element of masochism by shyly admitting he _sometimes_ thinks about Johnny outright hurting him–hitting him, slapping him, and pulling his hair. Choking him on his cock.

“I want you to fuck me up. Like, beat my ass. Seriously. I want to feel it for days after.”

He loves how big and strong Johnny is, imagines the elder using his size against him, pinning him down or outright restraining him. He thoroughly enjoys being manhandled, thrown around like he weighs nothing, and turned into vulnerable positions. He wants Johnny to be a bit rougher with him, to be mean to him, and put him in his place. He’s surprised by how much he likes when Johnny makes him beg, when he reduces him to nothing or refuses to touch him until he does.

He also tells Johnny about a fantasy he had once while they were fucking – of his big hand on his neck, fingertips pressing into the blood vessels at the top and depriving him of oxygen for just a few seconds before climax. He knows that kinda stuff is risky, but he doesn’t care. What a way to go.

Ten almost feels bad at first, because Johnny is gentle. He is so gentle with Ten, it hurts. He is a delicate person that wants to please others, worries about doing things wrong, and often needs a push in the right direction. For example, how insecure and scared he became about liking one of his students. He clearly wants to be a good person and excel in all things. Likewise maybe Johnny wants to be a good lover, to play it safe to avoid failures or disappointment. And while Ten likes being pampered, treated like royalty and bestowed upon the mattress like a porcelain doll, sometimes he wants to be shattered on the floor instead.

“And… I really like anal,” Ten tacks on, as if it’s not that important, as if it isnt the penetrative sex he prefers. But maybe one day he'll have the courage to admit how much he really enjoys it.

Johnny nods pensively. “That all?”

“Psh, no. There’s more. Like, a lot more.”

“What else?”

“You first.”

“ _My_ kinks?”

“Yes,” Just hearing Johnny say the word makes his stomach swoop, “I’m dying to know.”

“Well just like, bdsm stuff.”

“I’m listening.”

“Like, roleplay, power exchange. I’ve never properly dommed anyone before, but I know I like the idea of having control sometimes, and just taking over everything so my partner doesn’t have to worry about anything. I’m really interested in exploring that with someone, with rewards following obedience or successful completion of tasks. For failures, I’d be down to try punishments, too. I’ve heard it can be very...therapeutic.”

“That’s hot. So what, if I disobey, you’ll spank me?” Ten intends for it to be a joke, but the look the elder gives him kills any joy within him.

“Maybe,” he hums, tone even. “Would you like that?”

Ten gulps, “Yeah,” he admits.

Johnny shares that he’s not averted to pain and impact play at all, that he’s willing to study, to practice and prepare. They would need to properly ease into that kind of thing to avoid adverse emotional or psychological effects. He admits the choking scares him a little, has heard horror stories about people committing accidental homicide in the bedroom. Ten appreciates his honesty and resolve to make a concrete decision after doing more research.

“I have a thing for praise. I like giving and receiving compliments. I like knowing when I’m doing something well, when I’m pleasing my partner.”

“You’ll have to teach me, then. On my life, I cannot take a compliment. I’m terrible at giving them, too.”

“What do you think about using food?”

“Johnny, if you wanted me to lick whipped cream off your toes, you just had to ask.”

The elder chokes on sudden laughter, face burrowing in the side of Ten’s neck. He chuckles too, smoothing his hand down Johnny’s arm until it meets his own. Their fingers tangle.

Ten couldn’t be more pleased with the conversation. Not only is Johnny into power exchange, but he’s curious about learning to dom as well. It’s a suitable match for Ten, who leans more toward being a submissive (brat, power bottom, painslut, maybe a catboy too). His chest flutters at the thought of all the kinky sex they can potentially have this weekend.

-

The next day the sun is bright, the sky is cloudless and the bullshit with his roommate is the furthest thing from Ten’s mind. Johnny drives him home and before he exits the car, Ten promises the first thing he will do when he gets inside is pack for their trip.

The front door slams and with not a moment to spare, Ten goes to his room to rummage through his closet and dresser, trying to plan some semi-fashionable outfits for the weekend. Johnny’s got an eye for that sort of thing, so he really needs to bring his A-game. His professor is not above clowning him for a poorly chosen fit. If he does well, Johnny might tear him out of it faster.

Ten sighs dreamily at the thought. He hums, lackadaisical as he moves through the apartment. He goes to the bathroom to check what toiletries he has– if he needs to go to the drugstore to stock up on anything before the trip.

And Ten can safely say he did not plan to tell Hendery. He knows he’ll disapprove, come up with worst case scenarios and try to discourage the elder from going. Ten is actually really excited and doesn’t want anything to burst his bubble. The boy has a tendency to do that. Especially when he’s in one of his moods.

Speaking of moods, Ten doesn’t think he and his roommate are on speaking terms anyway. Not since his little outburst in the kitchen yesterday. It still doesn’t make sense to Ten. _Like, either you want me or you don’t?_

Regardless, Ten figures he can postpone a conversation about the trip until the very last possible moment.

But to his chagrin, when he walks the short distance from the bathroom back to his room, he’s distraught to see said roommate standing in the middle of it, arms folded over his chest.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, eyes flickering toward the half packed, black duffle bag sitting on Ten’s unmade bed. This is a very unfortunate turn of events, but c'est la vie.

“What did I tell you about snooping in my room?” Ten grumbles.

“Chill out, I was just looking for a lighter,” Ten doesn’t know if he believes him or not. His eyes are already red rimmed and slanted.

“So… where are you headed?”

“Like you care,” Ten digs in his pants pocket until he finds it.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” he drawls, their fingertips brushing when he takes the lighter.

Ten stares at him. He knows the likelihood of another argument, but the cat’s out of the bag now, he supposes. They might as well get this over with.

“…Johnny’s taking me to his friend’s lakehouse,” he mumbles, unable to make eye contact.

“For how long?”

“Just the weekend.”

Hendery is silent for a long time after hearing that, eyes trailing over the weird art posted on the wall, as if he’s only just noticed it. Ten’s room is a depression mess, clothes strewn all over the floor, hanging out of the dresser. He crosses the room quietly, stepping over things as he goes. There’s a pile of crumpled sketches, an empty cigarette box and half-drank water bottle on the floor in the corner by the window, and he toes the rubbish aside and deposits himself there.

He pushes the window up a bit, a refreshing breeze instantly wafting into the room. He gets a cigarette out, as if their landlord hasn’t told them a million times not to smoke in here, and sits down, fanning the younger toward him. Hendery goes silently. He leans over and lights it for him, all the while giving him a disappointed look.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ten sighs, “Just say it already.”

“Fine,” Hendery mutters as he sits next to the bag on the edge of his unmade bed, “I don’t think you should go,”

“Big surprise.”

“I don’t… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why,” Ten ashes the cigarette in the tray on the window sill, unable to hide his disinterest in the conversation already.

“Because. Well, I don’t know anything about the guy. Except that he’s literally forty, and, for some reason, likes _you_ of all the other twenty year olds that were in his class.”

Ten wants to say he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so interested in his life as it pertains to Johnny. Hendery’s been acting like a dumb bitch for the better part of the week now, and for all of the weeks since Ten told him he and Johnny fucked. But saying all that would be petty.

“‘Cause I was the hottest one,” he jokes instead, “Duh.”

“Can you please try to take this seriously? Or at least pretend?”

“That’s your problem, man. You take shit _too_ _seriously_ ,” Ten says, and he feels like it’s something their friend, Sushi would say.

He’s been spending way more time with him these days. But Ten can't help feeling drawn to him ever since he started seeing Johnny. Where Xuxi was accepting and warm about it, Hendery was cold and judgemental.

“You’ve been so uptight since I first told you about him. I told Xuxi too but he hasn’t made a big deal out of it. Because it’s not that deep. I’m just trying to hang out with a guy I like and get to know him better. So what if he’s a little older than me? I’m an adult. And anyway, age is just a numb–,”

“—-Why are you _doing this_?” Hendery’s voice suddenly breaks. “Why are you acting like this is the first time you’ve done something like this?”

Ten’s blood runs cold.

“And since when did you care so much what Xuxi thinks anyway?”

“Oh, ya know, since he actually respects my choices and doesn’t _constantly_ remind me of my past...” Ten mutters, passing a nervous hand through his hair, lightly tugging the roots. “...I never should’ve told you.”

Sometimes it feels like Kunhang doesn’t _want_ him to get better.

“Ten, I haven’t brought it up in months–”

“You don’t have to bring it up. The way you look at me, sometimes, is enough.”

“...what are you talking about?”

“You look at me like I’m fucked up, just like my parents. You don’t trust me to do _anything_ or to make _any_ decisions for my own life. You punish me all the time for being sad, for struggling with things. I have no control over that shit,” the words spill out in a rush of emotion, feelings he’s been suppressing for months now finally bubbling to the surface.

Hendery shrinks. “I’m just concerned.”

“I’ve already told you there’s no reason to be.”

“This guy is probably an asshole.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“And you do? Just because you fucked him?”

“Shut up. Johnny’s _nice_. He isn’t like the others. He’s nice to me.”

“But what if you go with him, and he’s suddenly not? What if something happens or you have a fight? Does he know about your self destructive tendencies? Does he know how many times you’ve tried to hurt yourself? Does he even care?”

“I…I’m gonna tell him. I promise.”

Hendery’s eyes darken. They both already know his promises don’t mean a damn thing.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want,” Ten is exhausted, “We both know this is more about making _you_ feel better than it is about making sure I’m okay.”

“...Are you serious?”

“Stop playing dumb,” Ten laughs, bitter, “Are _we_ really gonna have _this_ conversation and still not talk about your...feelings?”

Hendery’s jaw clenches.

This is _bullshit_. His roommate has made him feel so shitty in the past week, in many weeks before that, has been guilt tripping and emotionally manipulating him. Johnny has _never_ hurt him. For Hendery to just assume he’s a threat, or that Ten is making yet another bad decision because of his past isn’t fair.

Ten is _tired_. He is so tired of other people treating him like _he’s_ the psycho. He is tired of being judged and ridiculed by people who have the exact same problems as him.

“You justify everything by ‘being concerned about _me’_ ,” he air quotes, “But the truth is, _you're_ the one with the control problem _._ ”

Hendery refuses, “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Ten scoffs, takes another drag and exhales, “Aren’t youjealous?”

“No. Don’t turn this around. This isn’t about me. It’s about you and how you get these silly ideas in your head about love, but it’s always with the same person. It’s always… _him_ , and I’m tired of watching you relive it, I’m tired of seeing it happen again and again like a nightmare and there being nothing I can do to stop it!”

Ten can understand Kunhang. He really can. He doesn’t get angry with him for micromanaging his life, for shutting down and becoming distant when he doesn’t know what else to say or do.

Ten doesn’t have a right to speak on the pain he’s caused his best friend. He has no idea what it's been like.

“...I just don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

But believe it or not, Ten _is_ trying to get better. He’ll always fight a legion of demons within himself, but he thought Hendery would at least notice his effort on the outside. He doesn’t rely on drugs or sleep around or harm himself anymore. He hasn’t made an attempt in over a _year_. To anyone on the outside, he’s making incredible strides of recovery considering the cards he was dealt.

Just like his parents, Hendery can’t let it go. When he looks at Ten, he only sees the fuck ups, the mistakes.

“I _won’t_. How many times do I have to tell you? Johnny’s. not. like that.”

Hendery doesn’t say anything more before standing and leaving. Not long after, Ten hears the front door opening and closing as he exits the flat.

Ten sighs. He doesn’t know if his words will ever get through to Hendery. In the end, actions do speak louder. He can't just tell Hendery he's changed, but rather, over time, he's going to have to show him.

-

_The kiss of death._

_It was that awkward kind of light outside, kind of dark but still not overwhelmingly so. The sun was setting quickly and much earlier towards the end of November. This time of year was often cold and lonely, as the media and society shoved an idealistic picture of holiday festivities down people’s throats, forcing anyone who didn’t have an idealistic family life to feel like shit. It worsened Ten’s seasonal depression for certain, although it wasn’t really seasonal depression–just the normal kind. He was thankful that year, though, more than all the others. He wasn’t completely alone._

_Or maybe he was, but it didn’t feel that way. Not when Hendery looked at Ten like he was the only thing on planet earth. It was always with fascination, never contempt, with a burning hunger to understand. He had eyes like a night sky, the kind you could fall into, and if you weren’t careful, lose yourself in._

_There were other times, when the younger seemed to look right through him, as if he was missing something integral to Ten’s very nature. They came from different worlds, undeniably, had few things in common, totally different personalities and interests, but Hendery was cynical and hilarious. He made Ten smile, which was all that truly mattered in the end._

_Ten was looking too now, at the intense yet soft details of Hendery’s face which he’d never noticed before. He looked innocent. Ten knew that he was. But it made the rosy glow of his cheeks and his dimpled smile all the more beautiful. Even if it was showing in response to another one of Ten’s terrible, self deprecating jokes. He didn’t know why the younger one put up with him. Maybe it was because he could get them cheap liquor and weed. They had to be quiet, since Hendery's family was home, lest they find out his older friend was corrupting him instead of helping him study. But Ten couldn’t stop now. He was having too much fun._

_“Just say it. I won’t laugh, I promise,” he spoke languidly, their thighs slightly touching along the edge of Hendery’s bed. Dark humor was usually enough to disarm him, but he seemed extra guarded this evening._

_“Nah. It’s been built up too much now. I don’t care anymore.”_

_“You’re so annoying,” Ten scoffed, “You literally can’t do that. It’s against the rules.”_

_“Whose rules?” Hendery giggled._

_“Mine. My rules,” Ten laughed too. They were both cross faded and everything felt funnier than it really was._

_“Fine,” he had eventually conceded, “I’m bi.”_

_Ten was pleased, but he couldn’t show it on his face in his current state. “I know.”_

_“...So then why did you make me say it?” Hendery huffed, irritated, “Weirdo.”_

_“Because,” Ten started, like he did when he mentioned something particularly pretentious, “Coming out is an important step in every gay’s life.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

_“Okay, but now we can talk about kissing boys and you don’t like, have to pretend you’re not into it.”_

_Hendery had tensed at that, noticeably. Ten noticed he always became more subdued whenever he veered the conversation towards topics such as that. Or anything surrounding intimacy at all. Ten still wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t a prude by any means- they often made dumb, raunchy jokes like other high school boys. He had originally thought it was because Hendery was a bit gay and couldn’t admit it to himself. But he just had._

_“I guess,” the younger muttered._

_Then, it dawned on him._

_“Wait. Have you ever kissed a boy?”_

_Hendery’s eyes were shifting now, couldn’t meet his own. They fixated on the floor._

_“Uh–,”_

_“Or, anyone?”_

_“Why are we talking about this, again?”_

_“Shit. You haven’t, have you?” Ten gasped, never passing up an opportunity to make a joke, but especially at Hendery’s expense. “Aww.”_

_“Shut up. There’s other, more important things in life than sucking face.”_

_“Like what, school? Or video games? Do you make out with your playstation when it’s just the two of you alone?”_

_Hendery grabbed his pillow, raising it in a threat. Ten flinched but his amusement never faded. The boy was the furthest thing from intimidating,_

_“Fuck you.”_

_“Hey,” Ten chuckled, as the boy’s arms looped around the pillow. He hid his face in it. “Don’t be like that.”_

_“No. You made fun of me. Now I’m going to cry…” the younger boy warned, voice muffled in the fabric of the cotton pillowcase. Hendery made exaggerated sobbing sounds into it and Ten couldn’t stop himself from getting sucked into another wave of laughter._

_By the end of it his face ached, his chest burned, and his sides sore. But it was a pleasant pain, the kind he knew to be synonymous with joy, good times, even better memories._

_“Hey, hey,” he said a bit later, when they were finally able to calm down. “I was gonna say something.”_

_“What?” Hendery had taken another sip of his drink, leaning over to rest the cup back on the window sill._

_“Bro,” Ten slapped his leg lightly when he returned, “We should like… kiss.”_

_“Yeah. Right,” a scoff. Ten frowned._

_“Yo I’m like, so serious right now.”_

_“Uh…”_

_“Come on, man. I’ll kiss you. I mean, if you never kissed anyone. Unless you’re scared or something.”_

_“Ten,” Hendery gave the elder a new look then, one he wasn’t familiar with. It seemed caught between annoyance and panic. Ten’s intentions… what were they? “Stop messing around.”_

_“Babe, I’m not,” Ten smiled, hand resting on his thigh now. The term had slipped out on accident, but he rolled with it as it was successful in making Hendery stop. He stopped resisting altogether, by that point frozen and silent like a pillar of salt._

_If Ten was a different person, older, wiser, or could just read people better, maybe he wouldn’t have suggested it. If he really knew Hendery at all he would’ve known how bad of an idea it was because Ten would’ve known the boy was in love with him._

_“Don’t be weird about it,” he insisted, “It doesn’t have to be weird.”_

_“…Okay.”_

_“Okay?”_

_“Yeah,” he rushed, “Fine, whatever.”_

_And it was whatever, at first. Ten took control, like with everything else. He wasn’t sure if he should touch the boy, but he was fucked up, eyes barely able to stay open. It was chilly outside, but Hendery was warm and that soft skin was magnetic to his fingertips._

_Hendery closed his eyes, because he couldn’t handle the implications of looking into the other’s. Ten brushed his lips against his tentatively, hesitantly, as if his friend would bend and break beneath any greater pressure. He laid the gentlest of kisses on Hendery’s mouth, palm rested on the nape of his neck. The boy was stiff as a board, as always, so fearful of doing something wrong that he ended up doing nothing at all._

_“You good?” Ten asked when he pulled back, fingers playing with the dark hair at the base of Hendery’s head. Hendery’s eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice, needing a second to find him in the shadow of darkness that now cloaked his childhood bedroom. He nodded once. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, gaze darting to Ten’s own._

_“Kiss back,” he instructed, before leaning in once more. Hendery made a bit of an effort that time, lips fluttering, then finally, giving. He was a natural. It did not seem like it was his first time doing this. Maybe he was just way smarter than Ten; always was a fast learner._

_But neither denied the older had more experience. He couldn’t help but flaunt that fact, tilting his head slightly, deepening the kiss. He squeezed Hendery’s neck gently as he pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips, a silent plea to enter. And the younger allowed him to, inhaling sharply through his nose. He tasted like cheap vodka seltzer, lime, the artificial flavor of the grape leaf cigar and the pot they smoked out of it. A familiar, addictive combination._

_It went on for a while._

_Ten drew back when he had his fill of Hendery’s innocence, a soft sound breaking between them in the quiet when their mouths disconnected. He didn’t think the boy’s eyes could get any bigger, but in that moment they swallowed him whole. His bottom lip was swollen and wet. Ten ran the pad of his thumb over it, mesmerized._

_Hendery smirked._

_Afterwards they laid on their backs on the mattress, teenage bodies cramped together between the edge of Hendery’s twin bed and the wall._

_Ten had scooted his hand underneath his, entangling their fingers. He turned onto his side, tucked his face in Hendery’s neck and whispered he loved him._

_They never talked about it. And when they came back to school the Monday after Thanksgiving break, Ten had a new boyfriend anyway._

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/tenderybitch)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/tenderybxtch)   
>  [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/tenderybitch)


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